"*■?* 


LIBRAEY 

OF  THE 

Theo 

logical   Seminar 

•  PRINCETON,    N.  J. 

y, 

Case,. 

Divusia 

Shelf. 

S.e.ctj.o.o 

Book, 

No,„ 

"""•; i 

v.  I 


[ 


SERMONS 

BY 

JEAN-BAPTISTE  MASSILLON, 

BISHOP  OF  CLERMONT. 


TO   WHICH   IS    PREFIXED, 

THE   LIFE  OF    THE   AUTHOR. 

SELECTED  AND  TRANSLATED 

BY    WILLIAM    DICKSO^s 

AND 

DEDICATED,  BY  PERMISSION, 

TO 

HER    GRACE 

THE    DUTCHESS    OF    BUCCLEUGH. 


COMPLETE  IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


VOLUME  I. 


BROOKLYN : 

PRINTED  FOR  THOMAS  S.   ARDEN,  NO.  l86,   PEARL-STREET,   NEW-TORK. 
T.  KIRK,    PRINTER. 

1803. 


TO  HER  GRACE 
THE  DUTCHESS  OF  BUCCLEUGH. 

MADAM, 

In  confequence  of  your  permitting  me  to 
addrefs  my  Tranflation  of  the  following 
Sermons  to  your  Grace,  the  general  appro- 
bation will  be  fecured  to  at  leaft  one  part  of 
my  Publication. 

It  is  not  your  rank  in  the  world,  Madam, 
elevated  as  it  is,  which  renders  your  pro- 
tection of  any  part  of  the  amiable  Mas  sil- 
icon's Works  fo  eminently  proper;  it  is  your 
rank  in  the  hearts  of  the  good  and  virtuous, 
fuch  as  he  was,  who  will  unanimoufly  ac- 
knowledge the  propriety  of  the  Dedication. 

Were 


4 

Were  I  at  liberty  to  mention  inftances, 
within  the  fphere  of  my  own  knowledge,  of 
your  Grace's  humanity  and  benevolence, 
the  pleafure  with  which  I  feize  this  opportu- 
nity of  expreffing  my  veneration  for  your 
character,  would  be  little  wondered  at ;  nor 
would  the  fincerity  be  doubted,  with  which 
I  fubfcribe  myfelf, 

Madam, 

Your  Grace's  moll  refpedtful, 

And  moft  obedient  fervant. 

autiliam  Dtcfeson* 


TRANS- 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

TO  THE 

P   U    B    L    I    C. 


It  is  equally  proper  for  a  Tranflator,  as  for  an  Author, 
to  give  fome  explanation  (not  apology,  for  fureJy  a  gene- 
rous Public  will  require  none,  when  the  diffemination  of 
virtue  is  evidently  the  purpofe)  of  the  production  which 
he  obtrudes  upon  the  public. 

This  Tranflation  was  at  firft  undertaken,  merely  for  the 
recreation,  during  illnefs,  of  the  Tranflator  ;  his  admira* 
tion  of  Maflillon's  abilities,  increafing  as  he  went  on,  he 
was  induced  to  continue,  far  beyond  his  firft  intention  ; 
that  animation,  that  unclion,  as  D'Alembert  fays,  which 
flowed  from  his  pen  on  every  fubje£t,  that  gentle,  yet 
feeling  addrefs  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  and  to  which 
the  mod  indifferent  could  not  refufe  attention,  ftruck  him 
fo  forcibly,  that  he  could  not  reflect,  without  furprife, 
that  no  tranflation  of  his  works  had  as  yet  appeared  in 
Englifh.  Impreffed  with  a  conviction  of  their  moral  ten- 
dency, he  determined,  in  confequence  of  the  approbation 
of  fome  refpectable  clergymen,  his  friends,  to  publifh  a 
fele&ion  of  fuch  as,  unconnected  with  local  or  tempo- 
rary events  in  France,  would,  in  his  opinion,  be  an  ac- 
ceptable prefent  to  Chriflians  of  every  denomination.  He 
now  offers  the  prefent  volume  to  the  public  ;  and  fo  im- 
preffed  is  he  with  a  fenfe  of  their  merit,  that  he  is  con- 
vinced 


translator's  preface.  6 

vinced  that  the  weaknefs,  or  the  inaccuracy  of  the  Tranf- 
lation,  can  alone  prevent  a  generous  Public  from  receiving 
them  favourably. 

In  the  Tranflation,  he  has  endeavoured,  as  much  as  in 
him  lay,  to  convey  the  meaning  and  fentimenis  of  his 
Original ;  in  doing  of  which,  he  may  perhaps  be  thought 
fometimes  too  literal ;  but  if  the  meaning  be  conveyed, 
furely  the  error  is  on  the  fafeft  fide  ;  for  many  of  ourtranf- 
lations,  may  with  much  more  propriety  be  called  paraphrafes 
than  tranflations ;  and,  (atleaflin  the  Tranflator's  opinion), 
it  is  much  better  to  err,  in  keeping  rather  too  clofely  to 
the  text,  than  by  ftudioufly  avoiding  the  appearance  of  li- 
terality,  to  render  the  fenfe  both  obfcure  and  unintelligible. 
If  the  Tranflator  be  miftaken,  it  is  an  error  which  in  fu- 
ture may  eafily  be  corrected;  and  this  being  his  firft  pub- 
lication, he  trulls  that  a  generous  Public  will  not  calhier  a 
fubaltern,  becaufe  he  may  not  as  yet  be  capable  of  dif- 
charging  the  duty  of  a  general  officer. 

The  Tranflator  takes  this  opportunity  of  returning  his 
acknowledgments  to  his  friends  above  mentioned,  from 
whofe  advice  he  has  reaped  many  advantages.    . 


LIFE 


LIFE 

OF 

MASSILLON 


(  Extracled  from  the-  Difcourfe  of  Moti/ieur  Le  Marquis 
D'Jlembert,  on  his  admifjion  into  the  Roy  at  Academy 
of  Pans.) 


Jean-Baptiste  Massillon  was  born  in  Provence  in  the 
year  1663.  His  father  was  a  poor  attorney  of  that  in- 
confiderable  place.  The  obfeurity  of  his  birth,  which 
gives  fo  much  luftre  to  the  fplendourof  his  perfonal  merit, 
Ihould  make  a  chief  feature  in  his  panegyric  ;  and  it  may 
be  faid  of  him,  as  was  faid  of  the  illuftrious  Roman,  who 
owed  nothing  to  his  anceftors,  Videtur  ex  fe  natus  :  He 
feemed  to  have  produced  himfelf. 

He  entered  the  Oratory  at  feventeen  :  The  fuperiors  of 
Maflillon  foon  faw  the  fame  which  he  would  bring  to  their 
congregation.  They  deflined  him  to  the  pulpit ;  but,  it 
was  from  a  principle  of  obedience  alone,  that  he  confented 
to  fecond  their  views  :  He  was  the  only  one  who  did  not 
forefee  that  future  celebrity,  by  which  his  humility  and  his 
modefty  were  to  be  rewarded. 

The  young  Maflillon  did  every  thing  in  his  power  to 
avoid  that  fame.  He  had  already,  while  in  the  country, 
by  order  of  his  fuperiors,  pronounced  the  funeral  orations 

of 


8  LIFE  OF  MASSILLON. 

of  two  Archbifhops.  Thefe  difcourfes,  which  were  in- 
deed nothing  but  the  attempts  of  a  youth,  but  of  a  youth, 
who  fhewed  what  he  would  one  day  be,  had  the  raoft  bril- 
liant fuccefs.  The  humble  orator,  alarmed  at  his  growing 
reputation,  and  dreading,  as  he  faid,  the  daemon  of  pride, 
refolved  to  efcape  him  for  ever,  by  fecluding  himfelf  in 
the  molt  obfcure" retreat."  He  repaired  to  the  Abbey  of 
Septfons,  where  the  fame  difcipline  is  obferved  as  at  La 
Trappe  ;  arid  there  he  took  the  habit.  ' 

During  his  noviciate,  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles  addrefTed 
to  the  Abbe  of  Septfons,  whofe  virtue  he  refpefted,  a 
charge  which  he  had  juft  publifhed.  The  Abbe,  more 
religious  than  eloquent,  but  preferving  ftill  at  leaft  for 
thofe  of  his  communion  Tome  remains  of  felf-love,  wrftied 
to  return  an  anfwer  to  the  Cardinal,  worthy  of  the  charge 
he  had  received.  This  office  he  ehtrufted  to  Maflillon, 
who  performed  it  with  as  much  readinefs  as  fuccefs.  The 
Cardinal,  aftonifhed  at  receiving  from  thai-  quarter,  a  piece 
fo  well  written,  was  not  afraid  of  wounding  the  vanity  of 
the  Abbe  of  Septfons,  by  aflcing,  who  was  the  author  of 
it ;  when,  the  Abbe's  mentioning  Maflillon,  the  prelate 
immediately  replied,  that  fuch  talents  were  not  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture,  to  remain  hid  under  a'bufhel.  He 
obliged  the  novice  to  quit  the  habit,  and  refume  that  of 
the  Oratory.  He  placed  him  in  the  feminary  of  St.  Mag- 
loire  in  Paris,  exhorting  him  to  cultivate  the  eloquence  of 
the  pulpit,  and  promifing  to  make  his  fortune,  which  the 
young  orator  confined  to  that  of  an  apoftle,  that  is,  to  the 
mere  neceffaries  of  life,  accompanied  with  the  monV  ex- 
emplary fimplicity. 

His  firft  Sermons  produced  the  effeft,  which  his  fuperi- 
ors,  and  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles,  had  forefeen.    Scarcely 

had 


LIFE  OF  MASSILLON.  9 

had  he  fhewn  himfelf  in  the  churches  of  Paris,  than  he 
eclipfed  almoft  all  thofe  who  had  fhone  in  the  fame  fphere. 
He  had  declared  that  he  would  not  preach  like  them  ;  not 
from  any  prefumptuous  fentiment  of  fuperiority,  but  from 
the  juft  and  rational  idea  he  had  formed  of  Chriftian  elo- 
quence. He  was  perfuaded,  that  if  a  minifter  of  the  gof- 
pel  degrades  himfelf  by  circulating  known  truths  in  vul- 
gar language,  he  fails,  on  the  other  hand,  in  thinking  to 
reclaim,  by  profound  argumentation,  a  multitude  of  hear- 
ers, who  are  by  no  means  able  to  comprehend  him  ;  that 
though  all  who  hear  him  may  not  have  the  advantage  of 
education,  yet  all  of  them  have  a  heart,  at  which  the 
preacher  fhould  aim  ;  that  in  the  pulpit,  man  Ihould  be  ex- 
hibited to  himfelf,  not  to  frighten  him  by  the  horror  of  the 
picture,  but  to  afflict  him  by  its  refemblance ;  and  that  if 
it  is  fometimes  ufeful  to  terrify  and  alarm  him,  it  is  oftener 
profitable  to  draw  forth  thofe  extatic  tears,  that  are  more 
efficacious  than  thofe  of  defpair. 

Such  was  the  plan  that  Maflillon  propofed  to  follow,  and 
which  he  executed  like  a  man  who  had  conceived  it,  that 
is,  like  a  man  of  genius.  He  excells  in  that  property  of  an 
orator,  which  can  alone  fupply  all  the  reft  ;  in  that  elo- 
quence, which  goes  directly  to  the  foul,  which  agitates, 
without  convulfing;  which  alarms,  without  appalling; 
which  penetrates,  without  rending  the  heart.  He  fearches 
out  the  hidden  folds,  in  which  the  paflions  lie  enveloped; 
thefe  fecret  fophifms,  which  blind  and  feduce.  To  com- 
bat and  to  deftroy  thefe  fophifms,  he  has  in  general  only  to 
unfold  tfrem  :  This  he  does  with  an  unction  fo  affectionate 
and  fo  tender,  that  he  allures  us  rather  than  compels  ;  and 
even  when  he  fhews  us  the  picture  of  our  vices,  he  inter- 
efts  and  delights  us  the  mod.  His  diction,  always  fmooth 
and  elegant,  and  pure,  is  every  where  marked   with  that 

Vol.  L  B  noble 


10  LIFE  OF  MASSILLON. 

noble  fimplicity,  without  which,  there  is  neither  good  tafte 
nor  true  eloquence ;  a  fimplicity,  which  being  united  in 
Maflillon,  with  the  fweeteft  and  moil  bewitching  harmony, 
borrowed  from  this  latter  additional  graces  ;  but  what  com- 
pleats  the  charm  of  this  enchanting  ftyle,  is  our  conviction, 
that  to  many  beauties  fpring  from  an  exuberant  fource, 
and  are  produced  without  effort  or  pain.  It  fometimes 
happen,  indeed,  that  a  few  inaccuracies  efcap  e  him,  ei- 
ther in  the]  expreflion,  in  the  term  of  the  phrafe,  or  in 
the  affefting  melody  of  his  ftyle  ;  fuch  inaccuracies,  how- 
ever, my  be  called  happy  ones,  for  they  completely  prevent 
us  from  fufpe&ing  the  leaft  degree  of  labour  in  his  compo- 
fition.  It  was  by  this  happy  negligence,  that  Maflillon 
gained  as  many  friends  as  auditors  :  He  knew,  that  the 
more  an  orator  is  intent  upon  gaining  admiration,  the  lefs 
thofe  who  hear  him  are  difpofed  to  grant  it :  and  that  this 
ambition  is  the  rock  on  which  fo  many  preachers  have  fplit, 
who  being  entrufted,  if  one  dare  thus  to  exprcfs  it,  with 
the  interefts  of  the  Deity,  wifh  to  mingle  with  them  the 
infignificant  interefts  of  their  own  vanity.  He  compared 
the  ftudied  eloquence  of  learned  preachers  to  thofe  flowers, 
which  grow  fo  luxuriantly  amongft  the  corn,  that  are  lovely 
to  the  view,  but  noxious  to  the  corn. 

Maflillon  reaped  another  advantage  from  that  heart-af- 
fecting eloquence,  which  he  made  fo  happy  an  ufe  of. 
As  he  fpoke  the  language  of  all  conditions,  becaufe  he 
fpoke  to  the  heart,  all  def'criptions  of  men  flocked  to  his 
fermons  ;  even  unbelievers  were  eager  to  hear  him  ;  they 
often  found  inftru&ion,  when  they  expected  only  amufe- 
ment,  and  returned  fometimes  converted,  when  they  thought 
they  were  only  bellowing  or  with-holding  their  praife.  Maf- 
fillon  could  defcend  to  the  language,  which  alone  they 
would  liften  to,  that  of  a  philofophy,  apparently   human, 

but 


LIFE  OF  MASSILLON.  il 

but  which,  finding  every  avenue  to  the  heart  laid  open, 
allowed  the  orator  to  approach  without  effort  and  aflift- 
ance ;  and  made  him  conqueror,  even  before  he  had  en- 
gaged. 

His  action  perfectly  correfponded  with  the  kind  of  elo- 
quence he  had  cultivated.  The  moment  he  entered  the 
pulpit,  he  feemed  deeply  imprefled  with  the  great  truths 
he  twas  about  to  declare  ;  with  eyes  caft  down,  a  modeft 
and  collected  air,  without  any  violent  motions,  with  few 
or  no  geftures,  but  animating  all  by  an  affecting  and  im- 
preflive  voice,  he  communicated  to  his  hearers  the  religious 
fentiment  which  his  external  appearance  announced ;  he 
commanded  that  profound  filence,  which  is  a  higher  com- 
pliment to  eloquence,  than  the  moil  tumultuous  plaudits. 
He  appeared  on  that  great  and  dangerous  theatre,  equally 
devoid  of  pride  as  of  fear :  His  firft  attempt  was  uncom- 
monly brilliant,  and  the  exordium  of  his  firft  difcourfe  is 
one  of  the  mafter-pieces  of  modern  eloquence.  Lewis 
XIV.  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  power  and  glory  ;  he 
had  been  victorious  in  every  part  of  Europe  ;  he  was 
adored  by  his  fubjects,  intoxicated  with  fame,  and  fur- 
feited  with  adulation.  Maflillon  choofe  for  his  text  that 
paffage  of  Scripture  which  feemed  the  leaft  adapted  to  fuch 
a  prince,  "  Bleffed  are  they  who  weep  ;"  and  from  that 
text  he  conveyed  a  compliment  the  more  new,  and  artful, 
and  flattering,  as  it  appeared  to  be  dictated  by  the  gofpel 
itfelf,  and  fuch  as  an  Apoftle  might  have  paid.  «*  Sire," 
faid  he,  addrefling  the  king,  "  if  the  world  were  to  fpeak 
*f  to  your  Majefty  from  this  place,  it  would  not  fay,  Blef- 
"  fed  are  they  who  weep.  Happy,  would  it  fay,  that 
"  prince  who  has  never  fought  but  to  conquer ;  who  hath 
"  filled  the  univerfe  with  his  fame ;  who,  in  the  courfe  of 
"  a  long  and  profperous  reign,  has  enjoyed  all  that  men  ad- 

"  mire. 


12  LIFE  OF  MASSILLON. 

«•  mire,  the  fplendour  of  conqueft,  the  love  of  his  people, 
•'  the  efteem  of  his  enemies,  the  wifdom  of  his  laws.  But, 
"  Sire,  the  gofpel  does  not  fpeak.  the  language  of  the  world." 
The  audience  of  Verfailles,  accuflomed  as  it  was  to  Bour- 
dalous  and  Boffuets,  had  never  witneffed  an  eloquence  at 
once  fo  delicate  and  noble ;  and  accordingly,  it  excited  in 
the  congregation  an  involuntary  movement  of  admira^ 
tion. 

Our  orator  was  always  firm,  but  always  refpe&ful, 
while  he  announced  to  his  fovereign,  the  will  of  Him  who 
is  the  Judge  of  Kings  ;  he  fulfilled  the  duty  of  the  min- 
iftry,  but  he  never  exceeded  it  ;  and  the  Monarch,  who 
perhaps  retired  from  his  chapel  difTatisfied  with  fome  other 
preachers,  never  left  the  fermons  of  Maflillon,  without 
being  difTatisfied  with  himfelf.  This  the  Prince  was  hon- 
ed enough  to  confefs  to  Maflillon  ;  the  greateft  compli- 
ment he  could  pay  him,  but  a  compliment  which  many 
others  before  and  after  Maflillon  never  wifhed  to  obtain, 
being  more  anxious  to  fend  away  a  hearer  enraptured,  than 
a  finner  converted. 

Lewis  XIV.  died;  and  the  Regent,  who  honoured  the 
talents  of  Maflillon,  and  defpifed  his  enemies,  named  him 
to  the  bifhopric  of  Clermont;  he  wanted,  moreover, 
that  the  Court  mould  hear  him  once  more,  and  engaged 
him  to  preach  fome  Lent  fermons  before  the  King,  then  of 
the  age  of  nine  years. 

Thefe  fermons  compofed  in  lefs  than  three  months,  are 
known  by  the  name  of  Petit  Canme.  Though  they  are 
not  in  the  higheff.  degree  finifhed,  they  are  a  true  model  of 
pulpit  eloquence.  The  great  fermons  of  the  fame  author 
may  poflefs  more  pathos  and  vehemence  ;  but  the  elo- 
quence 


LIFE  OF  MtASSILLON.  1 3 

quence  of  thefe  is  more  insinuating  and  delicate,  and  the 
charm  refulting  from  them  is  enhanced  by  the  importance 
ef  the  fubjecl:,  by  the  ineftimable  value  of  thofe  fimple  af- 
fecting lefTons,  which  being  fitted  to  penetrate,  as  agreea- 
bly as  forcibly,  the  heart  of  the  young  Monarch,  feein 
calculated  to  procure  the  happinefs  of  millions,  by  ac- 
quainting the  Prince  with  what  was  expected  of  him. 

The  fame  year  in  which  thefe  difcourfes  were  pronounc- 
ed, Mamllon  was  admitted  into  the  French  academy. 
Maflillon  had  juft  been  made  a  bifhop ;  but  no  place  at 
Court,  no  bufinefs,  no  pretence  of  any  kind,  could  de- 
tain him  at  a  diftance  from  his  flock.  He  departed  for 
Clermont,  whence  he  never  returned,  but  on  account  of 
indifpenfable  occafions,  and  confequentiy  very  rarely.  He 
gave  all  his  attention  to  the  happy  people  whom  providence 
had  confided  to  his  care.  He  benevolently  dedicated  to  the 
inftruclion  of  the  poor,  thofe  fame  talents,  fo  much  efteem- 
ed  by  the  great  of  this  world,  and  preferred  to  the  loud  ap- 
plaufes  of  the  courtier,  the  fimple  and  earned  attention 
of  an  auditory,  lefs  brilliant,  but  more  teachable.  Per- 
haps the  molt  eloquent  of  his  fermons  are  the  conferen- 
ces he  held  with  his  curates.  He  preached  to  them  the  vir- 
tues of  which  he  fet  an  example,  difintereflednefs,  (impli- 
cit}-, forgetfulnefs  of  himfelf,  the  aclive  and  prudent  ear- 
neftnefs  of  an  enlightened  conviction,  very  different  from 
that  fanaticifm  which  proves  nothing  but  the  blindnefs  of 
zeal,  and  which  makes  the  fincerity  of  it  very  doubtful. 
A  wife  moderation  was  indeed  his  predominant  characler. 

Deeply  imprefTed  with  a  fenfe  of  the  true  duties  of  his 
ftation,  Maflillon  fulfilled  the  principal  function  of  a  bifhop, 
that  which  attracts  love  and  refpecl;  from  incredulity  itfelf, 
the  delightful  exercife  of  humanity  and  benevolence.     He 

fent, 


.14  LIFE  OF  MASSlLLOtf. 

ent,  in  the  fpace  of  two  years,  twenty  thoufand  livres  to 
he  Hotel  Dieu  at  Clermont.  His  whole  revenue  was  at 
the  fervice  of  the  poor.  His  diocefe  retain  the  remem- 
brance of  his  benefits,  now  after  thirty  years,  and  his  memo- 
ry is  flill  honoured  by  the  mod  eloquent  of  all  funeral  ora- 
tions, the  tears  of  an  hundred  thoufand  people  whom  his 
bounty  made  happy; 

This  funeral  oration  he  enjoyed  in  his  life  time.  When- 
ever he  appeared  in  the  ftreets  of  Clermont  the  people  prof- 
trated  themfelves  before  him,  calling  him  father,  and  in- 
voking bleflings  on  his  head.  Among  the  immenfe  alms 
which  he  beftowed,  there  were  fome  acts  of  charity  which 
he  carefully  concealed,  not  only  to  fpare  the  delicacy  o£ 
unhappy  individuals,  who  received  them,  but  to  relieve 
whole  communities  from  feelings  of  inquietude,  and  the 
fears  which  fuch  alms  might  infpire  them  with. 

Not  only  was  he  liberal  of  his  fortune  to  the  indigent, 
but  he  employed  for  them  befides,  with  as  much  zeal  as 
fuccefs,  both  his  intereft  and  his  pen.  Being  a  witnefs, 
in  his  diocefian  vifitations,  of  the  mifery  under  which  the 
inhabitants  of  the  country  groaned,  and  his  revenue  not 
being  fufficient  to  give  bread  to  fuch  a  multitude  of  in- 
digent creatures,  that  implored  it  of  him,  he  wrote  to  the 
Court  in  their  favour,  and,  by  the  energetic  and  affect- 
ing picture  which  he  drew  of  their  neceflities,  he  ob- 
tained either  actual  contributions  for  them,  or  a  confidera- 
ble  abatement  of  their  taxes.  I  am  allured  that  his  letters 
on  this  fubject  are  mafter-pieces  of  eloquence  and  pathos, 
fuperior  even  to  the  moft  affecting  of  his  fermons  ;  and 
what  emotions,  indeed,  mult  not  the  fpectacle  of  human 
nature,  fuffering  and  oppreffed,  have  excited  in  the  virtu-^ 
©us  and  companionate  foul  of  Maflillon  ! 

He 


LIFE  OF  MASSILLON  1J 

He  died  as  Fenelon  died,  and  as  every  bifhop  ought, 
without  wealth,  and  without  debt.  It  was  on  the  28th 
September  1742,  that  the  church  and  eloquence,  and  hu- 
manity fuffered  the  irreparable  lofs. 

A  circumftance  which  happened  not  long  ago,  calculated 
to  affect  every  heart  of  fenfibility,  proves  how  dear  the 
memory  of  Maflillon  is,  not  only  to  the  poor  whofe  tears 
he  wiped  away,  but  to  all  who  knew  him.  Some  years  ago, 
a  traveller  pafling  through  Clermont  wifhed  to  fee  the 
country-houfe  in  which  the  prelate  ufed  to  fpend  the  greatefl 
part  of  the  year,  and  he  applied  to  an  old  vicar,  who,  fince 
the  death  of  the  bifhop,  had  never  ventured  to  return  to 
that  country-houfe,  wherehe  who  inhabited  was  no  longer 
to  be  found.  He  confented,  however,  to  gratify  the  defire 
of  the  traveller,  notwithftanding  the  profound  grief  he  ex- 
pected to  fuffer,  in  revifiting  a  place  fo  dear  to  his  remem- 
brance. They  accordingly  fet  out  together,  and  the  vicar 
pointed  out  every  particular  place  to  the  ftranger.  "  There," 
faid  he,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  is  the  alley  in  which  the 
"  prelate  ufed  to  walk  with  us — there  is  the  arbor  in  which 
"  he  ufed  to  fit  and  read — this  is  the  garden  he  took  plea- 
M  fure  in  cultivating  with  his  own  hands."  Then  they  en- 
tered the  houfe,  and  when  they  came  to  the  room  where 
MafTillon  died,  "  this,'*  faid  the  vicar,  is  the  place  where 
"  we  loft  him  1"  And  as  he  pronounced  thefe  words,  be 
fainted.  The  afhes  of  Titus,  or  of  Marcus  Aurelius, 
might  have  envied  fuch  a  tribute  of  regard  and  affection. 


CONTENTS. 


CONTENTS. 


SERM.  PAGE. 

I.  On  Salvation,               .           .         .         .  17 

II.  On  the  Small  Number  of  the  Saved?        .  48 

III.  The  Difgujls  accompanying  Virtue,         .  yj 

IV.  The  Uncertainty  of  Righteoufnefs  in  a  State 

of  Lukewarmnefs,             .         .         *  102 

V.  The  Certainty  of  the  Lofs  of  Righteoufnefs  in 

a  State  of  Lukewarmnfes,         ,         .  127 

VI.  On  Evil-Speaking,          .         .         .         .  157 

VII.  On  the  Employment  of  Time,           .         »  188 

VIII.   The  Certainty  of  a  Future  State,             .  215 

IX.  On  Death,              243 

X.  The  Death  of  a  Sinner,  and  that  of a  Righte- 
ous Characler,          .         .         .         .  271 

XI.  On  Charity,            .  306 

XII.  On  Ajfliclion,        »  342 

XIII.  On  Prayer, 369 

XIV.  Forgivenefs  of  Injuries,         .         ,         .  397 
XV.  The  Woman  who  was  a  Sinner,       .         .  428 

XVI.  The  Word  of  God,        ,  4<57 


SERMON 


SERMON    I. 

ON  SALVATION. 

John  vii.  6. 
JV/y  ^zV?z£  is  not  yet  come  ;  but  your  time  is  always  ready, 

JL  he  reproach  which  is  directed  by  Jefus  Chrift,  againft 

his  relations  according  to  the  flefh,  who  prefTed  him  to  fhew 

himfelf  to  the  world  and  to  go  up  to  Jerufalem,  in  order  to 

acquire  thofe  honours  which  were  due  to  his  great  talents, 

may,  with  propriety,  be  directed  againft  the  greateft  part  of. 

this  audience.     The  time  which  they  give  to  their  fortune, 

to  their  advancement,  to  their  pleafures,  is  always  ready  ; 

it  is  always  time  to  labour  towards  the  acquirement  of  wealth 

and  glory,  and  to  fatisfy  their  paffions :  That  is  the  time  of 

man  :  But  the  time  of  Jefus  Chrift,  that  is  to  fay,  the  time 

of  working  out  their  falvation,  is  never  ready  ;  they  delay, 

they  put  it  off;  they  always  expect  its  arrival,  and  it  never 

arrives. 

The  flighteft  worldly  interefh  agitate  them,  and  make 
them  undertake  every  thing :  For  what  is  the  world  itfelf, 
whole  deceitful  ways  they  follow,  but  an  eternal  agitation, 
where  the  paffions  fet  every  thing  in  motion  ;  where  tran- 
quility is  the  only  pleafure  unknown  :  where  cares  are  ho- 
Vol.  I.  C  *  noivrable  : 


l8  S  E  R  M  O  N     I. 

nourable ;  where  thofe  who  are  at  reft,  think  themfelves 
unhappy  ;  where  all  is  toil  and  affliction  of  fpirit ;  in  a 
word,  where  all  are  in  motion,  and  all  are  deceived  ?  Sure- 
ly, my  brethren,  when  we  fee  men  fo  occupied,  fo  inter- 
efted,  fo  patient  in  their  purfuits,  we  would  fuppofe  them 
labouring  for  everlafting  ages,  and  for  riches  which  ought 
to  fecure  their  happinefs  :  How  can  we  comprehend,  that 
fo  much  toil  and  agitation  has  nothing  in  view  but  a  fortune, 
whofe  duration  fcarcely  equals  that  of  the  labours  which 
have  gained  it ;  and  that  a  life  fo  rapid,  is  fpent  with  fo 
much  fatigue,  in  the  fearch  of  wealth  which  mull  perifh 
along  with  it  I 

Neverthelefs,  a  miftake,  which  the  flighted  inveftigation 
is  fufficient  to  expofe,  is  become  the  error  of  by  far  the 
majority.  In  vain  does  religion  call  us  to  more  neceffary 
and  more  important  cares  ;  in  vain  it  announces  to  us,  that 
to  labour  for  what  muft  pafs  away,  is  only  amafling,  at  a 
great  expence,  heaps  o£  fanrl,  which  tumhle  upon  our 
heads,  as  fail  as  we  raife  them  up  ;  that  the  higheft  pitch 
of  elevation  to  which  we  can  attain  here  below,  is  always 
that  which  verges  upon  our  death,  and  is  the  gate  of  eter- 
nity ;  and  that  nothing  is  worthy  of  man,  but  what  will  en- 
dure as  long  as  man.  The  cares  of  the  paflions  are  always 
weighty  and  important  :  The  fteps  alone  which  we  take  for 
heaven,  are  weak  and  languid  :  Salvation  alone,  we  confi- 
der  as  an  amufement  :  We  toil  for  frivolous  riches,  as  if 
we  laboured  for  eternal  poffeflions  ;  we  labour  for  eternal 
pofTefhons,  as  if  we  toiled  for  frivolous  riches. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  our  cares  for  this  world  are  always 

animated ;  obflacles,  fatigues,  difappointments,  nothing  can 

repulfe  us  ;  Our  cares  tor  this  world  are  always  prudent  ; 

dangers,    fnares,    perplexities,    competitions,   nothing  can 

make  us  miftake  our  aim ;  whereas  our  cares  for  falvation 

bear 


ON  SALVATION.  i« 

bear  a  very  different  character  ;  nothing  can  be  more  lan- 
guid, or  lefs  interefting  to  us,  although  obffacles  and  dif- 
gtifls  there,  are  fo  much  to  be  dreaded  ;  nothing  can  be 
more  inconfiderate  ;  although  the  multiplicity  of  ways,  and 
the  number  of  rocks  for  us  to  fplit  upon,  render  miftakes 
in  it  fo  familiar  and  common. 

We  muft  labour,  therefore,  towards  its.accomplifhment, 
with  fervour  and  prudence  ;  with  fervour,  in  order  not  to 
be  repulfed  ;  with  prudence,  in  order  not  to  be  miflaken. 

Part.  I. — Undoubtedly  nothing  in  this  life  ought  to  in- 
terefl  us  more  than  the  care  of  our  eternal  falvation  ;  be- 
fides,  that  this  is  the  grand  affair  upon  which  our  all  de- 
pends, we  even  have  not,  properly  fpeaking,  any  other 
upon  the  earth  ;  and  the  infinite  and  diverfe  occupations  at- 
tached to  our  places,  to  our  rank,  to  our  fituations  in  life, 
ought  to  be  only  different  modes  of  labouring  towards  our 
falvation. 

Neverthelefs,  this  care  fo  glorious,  to  which  every  thing 
we  do,  and  whatever  we  are,  relate,  is  of  all  others  the 
rnoft  defpifed;  this  chief  care,  which  fhould  be  at  the 
bead  of  our  other  purfuits,  gives  place  to  them  all  in  the 
detail  of  our  actions ;  this  care  fo  amiable,  and  to  which 
the  promifes  of  faith,  and  the  confolations  of  grace,  at- 
tach fo  many  comforts,  is  of  all  others  become  for  us,  the 
rnoft  difgufling,  and  the  mod  melancholy.  And,  be- 
hold, my  brethren,  from  whence  fprings  this  want  of  fer- 
vour in  the  bufmefs  of  our  eternal  falvation  ;  we  purfue 
it  without  efteem,  without  preference,  and  without  incli- 
nation.    Let  us  invefligate  and  illuflrate  thefe  ideas. 

It  is  a  very  deplorable  error,  that  mankind  has  attached 
the  rnoft  pompous  names  to  all  the  enterprifes  of  the  paf- 

fions  ; 


20  SERMON     I.  • 

fions ;  and  that  the  cares  for  our  falvation  have  not,  in  the 
opinions  ot  men,  been  capable  of  meriting  the  fame  hon- 
our, and  the  fame  efteem.  Military  toils  are  regarded  by 
us  as  the  path  ot  reputation  and  glory ;  the  intrigues  and 
the  commotions  which  contribute  to  our  advancement  in 
the  world,  are  looked  upon  as  the  fecrets  ot  a  profound  wif- 
dom  ;  fchemes  and  negociations  which  arm  mankind  againft 
each  other,  and  which  frequently  make  the  ambition  of  an 
individual  the  fource  of  public  calamities,  pafs  for  extent 
of  genius,  and  fuperiority  of  talents ;  the  art  ot  raifing  from 
an  obfeure  patrimony,  a  monftrous  and  overgrown  fortune, 
at  the  expence  often  of  jullice  and  probity,  is  the  fcience 
of  bufinefs,  and  individual  good  management.  In  a  word, 
the  world  has  found  out  the  fecret  of  fetting  off  by  ho- 
nourable titles,  all  the  different  cares  which  are  connected 
with  the  things  of  this  earth.  The  actions  of  faith  alone, 
which  (hall  endure  eternally  ;  which  fhall  form  the  hiftory 
of  the  age  to  come,  and  fhall  be  engraven  during  all  eternity 
upon  the  immorfal  columns  of  the  heavenly  Jerufalem,  are 
accounted  idle  and  obfeure  occupations ;  the  lot  of  weak 
and  limited  fouls,  and  have  nothing  which  exalt  them  in 
the  eyes  of  men.  Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  firft  caufe  of 
our  indifference  towards  the  bufinefs  of  our  falvation  :  We 
do  not  fufHciently  efleem  that  holy  undertaking,  to  labour 
a£  it  with  fervour. 

Now,  I  do  not  think  it  neceffary  to  flop  here,  and  com- 
bat an  illufion,  which  fo  flagrantly  violates  right  reafon. 
For  what  is  it  that  can  render  a  work  glorious  to  the  perfon 
who  undertakes  it  ?  Is  it  the  duration  and  the  immortality 
which  it  promifes  in  the  memory  of  men  ?  Alas  !  all  the 
monuments  ot  pride  will  perifh  with  the  world  which  has 
reared  them  up  ;  whatever  we  do  for  the  earth,  will  expe- 
rience the  fame  deftiny  which  it  will  one  day  undergo  : 
Victories   and  canquefts,   the   moft   fplendid   enterprifes, 

and 


ON  SALVATION.  2f 

and  all  the  hiitory  of  the  Tinners  whofe  names  adorn  the 
prefent  age,  will  be  effaced  from  the  remembrance  of  men  ; 
the  works  of  the  juft  alone,  will  be  immortal,  and,  writ- 
ten forever  in  the  book  of  life,  will  furvive  the  entire  ruin 
of  the  univerfe.  Is  it  the  recompenfe  which  is  held  out  to 
us  for  it  ?  But  whoever  is  unable  to  render  us  happy,  is 
confequently  unable  to  recompenfe  us  ;  and  there  is  no 
other  who  has  that  power  but  God  himfelf.  Is  it  the  dig- 
nity cf  the  occupations  to  which  they  engage  you  ?  But 
the  mod  honourable  cares  of  the  world  are  merely  games, 
on  which  our  error  and  abfurdity  have  beftowcd  ferious 
and  pompous  names  :  Here,  on  the  contrary,  every  thing 
is  great ;  we  love  the  Author  of  our  exiflence  alone  ;  we 
adore  the  Sovereign  of  the  univerfe  ;  we  ferve  an  Almigh- 
ty Mafter;  we  covet  only  eternal  riches  ;  we  form  projects 
for  heaven  alone ;  we  labour  for  an  immortal  crown, 

What  is  there  upon  earth,  then,  more  glorious,  or  more 
worthy  of  man,  than  the  caics  ot  eternity  ?  Profperities 
are  honourable  anxieties  ;  fplendid  employments  an  illuftri- 
ous  fervitude  ;  reputation  is  frequently  a  public  error  :  ti- 
tles and  dignities  are  rarely  the  fruit  of  virtue,  and,  at  the 
moft,  ferve  only  to  adorn  our  tombs,  and  embellifh  our 
afhes  ;  great  talents,  if  faith  does  not  regulate  their  ufe, 
are  only  great  temptations  ;  deep  knowledge,  a  wind  which 
inflates  and  corrupts,  it  faith  does  not  correel:  its  venom  ; 
all  thefe  are  only  grand,  by  the  ufe  which  may  be  made  of 
them  towards  falvation  :  Virtue  alone  is  eftimable  for  it- 
felf. 

Neverthelefs,  if  our  competitors  are  more  fuccefsful,  and 
more  elevated  than  we  in  the  world,  we  view  their  fitua- 
tion  with  envious  eyes ;  and  their  aggrandifement,  in 
humbling  our  pride,  reanimates  the  fervour  of  our  defigns, 

and 


22  sermon;. 

and  gives  new  life  to  our  expe&ations  ;  but,  it  happens 
fometimes,  that  the  accomplices  of  our  pleafures,  changed 
fuddenly  into  new  men,  nobly  break  all  the  fhamei ul  bonds 
of  the  paflions,  and  borne  upon  the  wings  of  grace,  enter 
in  our  fight,  into  the  path  ot  falvation,  whilft  they  leave 
us  behind  them,  to  wander  ftill  unfortunately,  at  the  plea- 
fure  of"  our  illicit  defires.  We  view  with  a  tranquil  eye  the 
prodigy  of  their  change ;  and  their  lot  far  from  exciting 
our  envy,  and  awaking  in  us  any  weak  defires  of  falvation, 
only  induces  us,  perhaps,  to  think  on  replacing  the  void 
which  their  retreat  has  made  in  the  world  ;  of  elevating 
ourfelves  to  thofe  dangerous  offices  from  which  they  have 
-juft  defcended  through  motives  of  religion  and  faith  : 
What  fhall  I  fay  ?  We  become,  perhaps,  the  cenfurers  of 
their  virtues  :  We  feek  elfewhere  than  in  the  infinite  trea- 
fures  of  grace,  the  fecret  motives  of  their  change  ;  to  the 
work  of  God  we  give  views  entirely  worldly;  and  our 
deplorable  cenfures  become  the  molt  dangerous  trials  of 
their  repentance.  It  is  thus,  O  my  God  !  that  Thou 
ihedeft  avenging  darknefs  over  iniquitous  paflions  ! 
Whence  comes  this  ?  We  want  efleem  for  the  holy  un- 
dertaking of  falvation  :  This  is  the  firft  caufe  of  our  indif- 
ference. 

In  the  fecond  place,  We  labour  in  it  with  indolence,  be- 
caufe  we  do  not  make  a  principal  object  of  its  attainment, 
and  becaufe  we  never  give  a  preference  to  it  over  our  other 
purfuits.  In  effecl:,  my  brethren,  we  all  wifh  to  be  fav- 
ed  ;  the  mofl  deplorable  finners  do  not  renounce  this  hope  ; 
we  even  wifh,  that  amonglt  our  anions,  there  may  always 
be  found  fome  which  relate  to  our  falvation  ;  for  none  de- 
ceive themfelves  fo  far  as  to  believe,  that,  they  fhall  be  en- 
titled to  the  gloiy  ot  the  holy,  without  having  ever  made 
a  fingle  exertion  towards  rendering  themfelves  worthy  of  it ; 

but 


ON  SALVATION*.  *g£ 

but  the  point  in  which  we  commonly  deceive  ourfeives  is, 
the  rank  which  we  give  to  thefe  works,  amidft  the  other 
occupations  which  divide  our  life. 

The  trifles,  the  attentions  which  we  lavifh  fo  profufely 
in  our  intercourfe  with  fociety,  the  functions  of  a  charge, 
domeftic  arrangements,  pafllons  and  pleafures,  their  times 
and  their  moments  marked  in  our  days.  Where  do  we 
place  the  work  of  falvation  ?  What  rank  do  we  give  to 
this  fpecial  care,  above  our  other  cares  ?  Do  we  even  make 
a  bufinefs  of  it  ?  And,  to  enter  into  the  particulars  of 
your  conduct.  What  do  you  perform  for  eternity  which 
you  do  not  for  the  world  an  hundred  fold  ?  You  fometimes 
employ  a  fmall  portion  of  your  wealth  in  religious  chari- 
ties ;  but  what  are  thefe  when  compared  to  the  fums  which 
you  facrifice  every  day  to  your  pleafures,  to  your  paffions, 
and  to  your  caprices  ?  In  the  morning  you,  perhaps,  raife 
up  your  mind  to  the  Lord  in  prayer  ;  but  does  not  the 

World,    in  a   moment,    rel^ma    ito  place  in.    your    heart,    and 

is  not  the  remainder  of  the  day  devoted  to  it  ?  You  regu- 
larly attend,  perhaps,  in  order  to  fulfil  the  external  duties 
of  religion ;  but,  without  entering  into  the  motives  which 
frequently  carry  you  there,  this  individual  exercife  of  re- 
ligion, Is  it  not  compenfated  by  devoting  the  remainder  of 
the  day  to  indolent  and  worldly  purfuits  ?  You  fometimes 
correcl  your  inclinations  ;  you  perhaps  bear  with  an  injury  ; 
you  undertake  the  difcharge  of  fome  pious  obligation  ;  but 
thefe  are  individual  and  infulated  exertions,  out  of  the 
common  tracl,  and  which  are  never  followed  by  any  regu- 
lar confequences  ;  you  will  be  unable  to  produce  before 
the  Lord,  a  fingle  inftance  of  thefe  in  your  favour,  with- 
out the  enemy  having  it  at  the  fame  time  in  his  power  to 
reckon  a  thoufand  again  ft  you  ;  falvation  occupies  your 
intervals  alone ;  the  world  has,  as  I  may  fay,  the  founda- 
tion 


_S>4  s  E  R  M  O  ft     I. 

tion  and  the  principal :  The  moments  are  for  God,  our 
entire  life  is  for  ourfelves. 

I  know,  my  brethren,  that  with  regard  to  this,  you  feel 
fenfibly  the  injuftice  and  the  danger  of  your  own  condu6L 
You  confefs,  that  the  agitations  of  the  world,  of  bufmefs, 
and  of  pleafures,  almoft  entirely  occupy  you,  and  that  a 
very  little  time,  indeed,  remains  for  you  to  reflecl:  upon 
falvation  :  But,  in  order  to  tranquilize  yourfelves,  you  fay, 
that  fome  future  day,  when  you  mall  be  more  at  eafe  ; 
when  affairs  of  a  certain  nature  fhall  be  terminated  ;  when 
particular  embarrafTments  fhall  be  at  an  end;  and,  in  a 
word,  when  certain  circumflances  fhall  no  longer  exifl, 
you  will  then  think  ferioufly  upon  your  falvation,  and  the 
bufineis  of  eternity  fhall  then  become  your  principal  occu- 
pation :  But,  alas  !  your  deception  is  this,  that  you  regard 
falvation  as  incompatible  with  the  occupations  attached  to 
the  ftation  in  which  Providence  has  placed  you.  For,  can- 
not you  employ  that  Nation  as  the  means  of  your  fan£lifi- 
cation  ?  Can  you  not  exercife  in  it  all  the  Chriflian  vir- 
tues ?  Penitence,  fhould  thefe  occupations  be  painful  and 
diftrefling  ;  clemency,  pity,  juflice,  if  they  eftablifh  you 
in  authority  over  your  fellow  creatures  ?  Submiflion  to 
the  will  of  heaven,  if  the  fuccefs  does  not  correfpond 
fometimes  with  your  expectations  ?  A  generous  forgivenefs 
of  injuries,  if  you  fuffer  oppreflion  or  calumny  in  that  fta- 
tion  ;  Confidence  in  God  alone,  if  in  it  you  experience 
the  injuftice  or  the  inconftancy  of  your  maflers  ?  Do  not 
many  individuals  oi  your  rank  and  flation,  in  the  fame 
predicament  as  you  find  yourfelves,  lead  a  pure  and  Chrif- 
tian  life  ?  You  know  well,  that  God  is  to  be  found  every- 
where ;  for,  in  thofe  happy  moments  when  you  have  fome- 
times been  touched  with  grace,  is  it  not  true,  that  every 
thing  recalled  you  to  God  ?  That  even  the  dangers  of  your 

flation 


ON  SALVATION.  2J 

flation  became  the  vehicles  of  inftru&ion,  and  means  of 
cure  for  you ;  that  the  world  difgufted  you,  even  with  the 
world  ;  that  you  found  continually  and  everywhere,  the 
fecret  of  offering  up  a  thoufand  invifible  facrifices  to  the 
Almighty,  and  of  making  your  moft  hurried  and  tumultu- 
ous occupations  the  fources  of  holy  reflections,  or  ot 
praifeworthy  and  falutary  examples  ?  Why  do  you  not  cul- 
tivate thefe  impreflions  of  grace  and  falvation  ?  It  is  not 
your  fituation  in  life,  it  is  your  infidelity  and  weaknefs, 
which  have  extinguifhed  them  in  your  heart. 

Jofeph  was  charged  with  the  management  of  a  great 
kingdom  ;  he  alone  fupported  the  whole  weight  of  the 
government  ;  nevertheless,  did  he  forget  the  Lord,  who 
had  broken  afunder  his  chains,  and  juftified  his  innocence  ? 
Or,  in  order  to  ferve  the  God  of  his  fathers  ;  did  he  delay 
till  a  fucceflbr  fhould  come  and  reftore  that  tranquility  to 
him  which  his  new  dignities  had  neceflarily  deprived  him 
of  ?  On  the  contrary,  he  knew  how  to  render  Serviceable 
towards  the  confolation  of  his  brethren,  and  the  happinefs 
of  the  people  of  God,  a  profperity  which  he  acknowledg- 
ed to  be  held  only  from  his  Almighty  hand.  That  officer 
of  the  Queen  of  Ethiopia,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  A6ts 
of  the  Apoftles,  had  the  fole  government  of  her  immenfe 
riches  ;  every  particular  with  regard  to  tributes  and  fubfidies, 
and  the  adminiftration  of  all  the  public  revenues,  were  en- 
trufled  to  his  fidelity  ;  now,  this  abyfs  of  cares  and  em- 
barraffments  did  not  deprive  him  of  leifure  to  feek,  in  the 
prophecies  of  Ifaiah,  the  falvation  he  expecled,  and  the 
words  of  eternal  life.  Place  yourfelves  in  the  molt  agitat- 
ed ftations,  you  will  find  examples  of  upright  fouls,  who 
in  them  have  wrought  their  fanefification  :  The  Court 
may  become  theafylum  of  virtue,  as  well  as  the  cloiiler  ; 
Vol,  I,  D  place* 


20  SERMON     I, 

places  and  employments  may  be  the  aids,  as  well  as  the 
rocks  of  piety  ;  and  when,  in  order  to  return  to  God,  we 
delay  till  a  change  of  ftation  mail  take  place,  it  is  a  fure 
mark  that  we  do  not  as  yet  wifh  to  change  our  heart.  Be- 
sides, when  we  fay  that  falvation  ought  to  be  your  fole  em- 
ployment, we  do  not  pretend  that  you  fhould  renounce  all 
other  purfuits ;  for  you  would  then  depart  from  the  order 
of  God  ;  we  only  wifh  you  to  connect  them  with  your 
falvation  ;  that  piety  may  fan&ify  your  occupations  ;  that 
faith  may  regulate  them  ;  that  religion  may  animate  them  ; 
that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  may  moderate  them  :  In  a  word, 
that  falvation  may  be  as  the  centre  to  which  they  all  tend. 
For,  to  wait  till  you  fhall  be  in  a  more  tranquil  fituation, 
and  freer  from  worldly  perplexities,  is  not  only  an  illufion 
which  Satan  employs  to  delay  your  repentance,  but  it  is 
alfo  an  outrage  upon  the  religion  of  Jefus  Chrift  ;  you 
thereby  juftify  the  reproaches  formerly  made  againft  it,  by 
the  enemies  of  the  Chriftians  ;  it  would  feem  that  you 
look  upon  it  as  incompatible  with  the  duties  of  Prince, 
courtier,  public  character,  and  father  of  a  family  ;  like 
them,  you  feem  to  believe,  that  the  gofpel  propofes  only- 
maxims  unfortunate  and  inimical  to  fociety;  and  that, 
were  it  believed,  and  ftri&ly  obferved,  it  would  be  necef- 
fary  to  quit  all  ;  to  exclude  ourfelves  from  the  world  ;  to 
renounce  all  public  concerns ;  to  break  all  the  ties  of  duty, 
of  humanity,  of  authority,  which  unite  us  to  the  reft  ot 
mankind  ;  and  to  live  as  if  we  were  alone  upon  the  earth  ; 
in  place  of  which,  it  is  the  gofpel  alone  which  makes  us 
fulfil  all  thefe  duties  as  they  ought  to  be  fulfilled ;  it  is  the 
religion  ot  Jefus  Chrift  which  can  alone  form  pious  prin- 
ces, incorruptible  magiftrates,  mild  and  gentle  mailers, 
and  faithful  fubjecls,  and  maintain,  in  a  juft  harmony,  that 
variety  of  flations  and  conditions,  upon  which  depend  the 

peace 


ON  SALVATION, 


27 


peace  and  tranquility  of  the  people,  and  the  fatety  oi  em- 
pires. 

But,  in  order  to  imprefs  more  fenfibly  upon  you  the  il- 
lufion  of  this  pretext,  when  you  (hall  be  free  from  embar- 
rafTment,  and  difengaged  from  thefe  external  cares  which 
at  prefent  detacli  our  thoughts  from  falvation,  will  your 
heart  be  free  from  paflions  ?  Will  thofe  iniquitous  and  in- 
vifible  bonds  which  now  flop  you,  be  broken  afunder  ? 
Will  you  be  reftored  to  yourfelves  ?  Will  you  be  more 
humble,  more  patient,  more  moderate,  more  virtuous, 
more  mortified  ?  Alas  !  It  is  not  external  agitations  which 
check  you,  it  is  the  diforder  within  ;  it  is  the  tumultuous  ar- 
dour of  the  paflions  ;  it  is  not  from  the  cares  of  fortune,  and 
the  embarraiTments  of  events  and  bufinefs,  fays  a  holy  fa- 
ther, that  confufion  and  trouble  proceed  ;  it  is  from  the 
irregular  defires  of  the  foul ;  a  heart  in  which  God  reign? 
is  tranquil  everywhere.  Your  cares  for  the  world  are  on- 
ly incompatible  with  falvation,  becaufe  the  affections  which 
attach  you  to  it  are  criminal.  It  is  not  your  {rations,  but 
your  inclinations  which  become  rocks  of  deflruclion  to 
you  ;  now,  from  thefe  inclinations  you  will  never  be  able 
to  free  yourfelves  with  the  fame  facility  as  from  your  cares 
and  embarraflments  ;  they  will  afterwards  be  even  more 
lively,  more  unconquerable  than  ever  :  Befides  this  fund 
of  weaknefs  which  they  draw  from  your  corruption, 
they  will  have  that  force  and  ftrength  acquired  by  habit 
through  time  and  years.  You  think,  that  in  attaining  reii 
every  thing  will  be  accomplished  ;  and  you  will  feel,  that 
your  paflions,  more  liveJy  in  proportion  as  they  no  longer 
find  external  refources  to*emp!oy  them,  will  turn  all  their 
violence  againft  yourfelves  ;  and  you  will  then  be  furprif- 
ed  to  find  in  your  own  hearts,   the  fame  obclacles  which  at 

prefent 


$8  SERMON     I, 

prefent  you  believe  to  be  only  in  what  furrounds  you. 
This  leprofy,   it  I  may  venture  to  fpeak  in  this  manner,   is 
not  attached  to  your  clothes,  to  your  places,  to  the  walls 
of  your  palaces,   fo  that,  by  quitting  them  you  may  rid 
yourfelves  of  it ;  it  has  gained  root  in  your  flefh  ;  it  is  not 
by  renouncing  your  cares,  therefore,  that  you  rauft  labour 
towards   curing  yourfelves  ;  it  is  by  purifying  yourfelves 
that  you  muft  fanclify  your  cares  :    Every  thing  is  pure  to 
thofe  who  are  pure  ;   otherwife  your  wound  will   follow 
you,   even  into   the   leifure  of  your  folitude  ;   like  that 
King  ot   Judea  mentioned  in  the  Book  of   Kings,    who  in 
vain  abdicated  his  throne,    delivered  up  all  the   infignia  as 
well  as  the  cares  of  royalty,   into  the  hands  of   his  fon, 
and  withdrew  himfelf  into  the  heart  of  his  palace  ;  he  car* 
xied  with  him  the  leprofy  with  which  the  Lord  had  flruck 
him,   and  beheld  that  fhamcful  difeafe  purfue  him  even  in- 
to his  retreat.     External  cares  find  neither  their  innocency 
nor  their  malignity,   but  in  our  own  hearts  ;    and  it  is  our- 
felves   alone   who   render  the  occupations   of  the  world 
dangerous,   as  it  is  ourfelves  alone  who  render  thofe  oi 
heaven  infipid  and  difgufling. 

And,  behold,  my  brethren,  the  laft  reafon  why  we  fhew 
fo  little  fervour  and  animation  in  the  affair  of  our  eternal 
faivation  ;  it  is  becaufe  we  fulfil  the  duties  neceffary  to  ac- 
complifh  it,  without  pleafure,  and,  as  it  were,  againft. 
our  will.  The  flighted  obligations  of  piety  appear  hard 
to  us  ;  whatever  we  do  for  heaven  tires  us,  exhaufls  us, 
difpleafes  us  :  Prayer  confines  our  minds  too  much  ; 
retirement  wearies  us  ;  holy  reading,  from  the  firft, 
fatigues  the  attention  ;  the  intercourfe  of  the  upright  is 
languid,  and  has  nothing  fpright-ly  or  amufing  in  it  ;  in  a 
word,  we  iind  fomething,  I  know  not  what,  of  melan- 
choly 


QN   SALVATION.  29 

choly  in  virtue,  which  occafions  us  to  fulfil  its  obligations 
only  as  hateful  debts,  which  we  always  difcharge  with  a 
bad  grace,   and  never  till  we  fee  ourfelves  forced  to  it. 

But,  in  thejirjl  place,  my  brethren,  you  are  unjufl  in 
attributing  to  virtue  what  fprings  from  your  own  corrupr 
tion  ;  it  is  not  piety  which  is  difagreeable,  it  is  your  heart 
which  is  difordered  ;  it  is  not  the  cup  of  the  Lord  which 
is  to  be  accufed  of  bitternefs,  fays  a  holy  father,  it  is  your 
own  tafte  which  is  vitiated.  Every  thing  is  bitter  to  a  deceaf- 
ed  palate  :  Corre&your  difpofitions,  and  the  yoke  will  ap- 
pear light  to  you  ;  reflore  to  your  heart  that  tafte  of  which 
fin  has  deprived  it,  and  you  will  experience  how  pleafing  the 
Lord  is  :  Hate  the  world,  and  you  will  comprehend  how  much 
virtue  is  amiable  :  In  a  word,  Jefus  Chrift  once  become  the 
object  of  your  love,  you  will  then  feel  the  truth  of  every 
thing  I  fay. 

Do  the  upright  experience  thofe  difgufls  for  pious  works: 
which  you  feel  ?  Interrogate  them  :  Demand  it  they  con- 
fider  your  condition  as  the  happieft :  They  will  anfwer, 
that  in  their  opinion  you  appear  worthy  of  companion, 
that  they  are  feelingly  touched  for  your  errors  ;  to  fee  you 
fuffering  every  thing  for  a  world  which  either  defpifes  vou, 
wearies  you,  or  cannot  render  you  happy  ;  to  fee  you  fre- 
quently running  after  pleafures  more  infipid  to  you,  than 
even  virtue  from  which  you  fly  :  They  will  tell  you,  that 
they  would  not  change  their  pretended  melancholy  for  all 
the  felicities  of  the  earth.  Prayer  confoles  them  ;  retire- 
ment fupports  them  ;  holy  reading  animates  them  ;  works 
of  piety  fhed  a  holy  unftion  through  their  foul  ;  and  their 
happieft  days,  are  thofe  which  they  pafs  with  the  Lord. 
It  is  the  heart  which  decides  our  pleafures.     While  yon 

continue 


£0  S  E  R  M  O  N     I. 

continue  to  love  the  world,  you  will  find  virtue  infupport- 
able. 

In  the  ftcond  place,  IF  you  wifh  to  know  why  the  yoke 
oF  Jefus  Chrift  is  fo  hard,  and  fo  burdenfome  to  you  ;  it 
is  becaufe  you  carry  it  too  feldom  :  You  give  only  a  iew 
rapid  moments  to  the  care  of  your  falvation  :  Certain  days 
which  you  confecrate  to  piety  :  Certain  religious  works  of 
which  you  fometimes  acquit  yourfelves  ;  and  in  accom- 
plishing their  immediate  difcharge,  you  experience  only  the 
difgufts  attending  the  firft  efforts  ;  you  do  not  leave  to 
grace,  the  time  neceffery  to  lighten  the  weight ;  and  you 
anticipate  the  comforts  and  the  confolations,  which  it  ne- 
ver fails  to  fhed  upon  the  fequel.  Thofe  myflerious  ani- 
mals which  the  Ph'.liflines  made  choice  of  to  carry  the  ark 
of  the  Lord  beyond  their  Frontiers,  emblematic  of  unbe- 
lieving fouls  little  accuflomed  to  bear  the  yoke  of  Jefuo 
Chrift,  bellowed,  fays  the  fcripture,  and  feemed  to  groan 
under  the  grandeur  of  that  facred  weight:  In  place  of 
which,  the  children  of  Levi,  a  natural  image  of  the  upright, 
accuflomed  to  that  holy  miniflry,  made  the  air  refound 
with  fongs  of  mirth  and  thankfgivings,  while  carrying  it 
with  majefty,  even  over  the  burning  fands  of  the  defert, 
The  law  is  not  a  burden  to  the  upright  foul  accuflomed  to 
obferve  it ;  It  is  the  worldly  foul  alone,  little  familiarized 
to  the  holy  rules,  who  groans  under  a  weight  fo  pleafing. 
When  Jefus  Chrifl  declares  that  his  yoke  is  light  and  eafy, 
he  commands  us,  at  the  fame  time,  to  bear  it  every  day  ; 
the  un&ion  is  attached  to  the  habit  and  ufage  of  it  :  The 
arms  of  Saul  were  heavy  to  David,  only  becaufe  he  was 
not  accuflomed  to  them.  We  mufl  familiarize  ourfelves 
with  virtue,  in  order  to  be  acquainted  with  its  holy  attrac- 
tions ;  the  pleafures  of  fmners  are  only  fuperficiaUy  agree- 
able : 


ON   SALVATION",  $1 

able :  The  firff.  moments  alone  are  pleafant ;  defcend  deep- 
er, and  you  no  longer  find  but  gall  and  bitternefs  ;  and  the 
deeper  you  go,  the  more  will  you  find  the  void,  the  wea- 
rinefs,  and  the  fatiety  which  are  infeparable  from  fin  :  Vir- 
tue, on  the  contrary,  is  a  hidden  manna  ;  in  order  to  tafte 
all  its  fweetnefs,  it  is  neceffary  to  dig  for  it ;  but  the  more 
you  advance,  the  more  do  its  confolations  abound  ;  in  pro- 
portion as  the  paffions  arc  calmed,  the  path  becomes  eafy  ; 
and  the  more  will  you  applaud  yourfelves  for  having  broken 
afunder  chains  which  weighed  you  down,  and  which  you 
no  longer  bore  but  with  reluctance  and  a  fecret  forrow. 

Thus,  while  you  confine  yourfelves  to  fimple  efiays  in 
virtue,  you  will  tafte  only  the  repugnances  and  the  bitter- 
nefs of  it ;  and,  as  you  will  not  poffefs  the  fidelity  of  the 
upright,  you  can  have  no  right,  consequently,  to  expe£k 
their  confolations. 

In  a  word,  You  perform  the  duties  of  piety  without  in- 
clination, not  only  becaufe  you  do  them  too  feldom,  but 
becaufe  you  only,  as  I  may  fay,  half  perform  them.  You 
pray,  but  it  is  without  recollection  ;  you  abftain,  perhaps, 
from  injuring  your  enemy  ;  but  it  is  without  loving  him  as 
your  brother  ;  you  approach  the  holy  myfteries  ;  but  with- 
out bringing  there  that  fervour  which  alone  can  enable  you 
to  find  in  them  thofe  ineffable  comforts  which  they  com- 
municate to  the  religious  foul  ;  You  fometimes  feparatc 
yourfelves  from  the  world  ;  but  you  carry  not  with  you 
into  retirement  the  filence  of  the  fenfes  and  of  the  paf- 
fions, without  which  it  is  only  a  melancholy  fatigue.  ,  In 
a  word,  You  only  half  carry  the  yoke.  Now,  jefus  Chrift 
is  not  divided  :  That  Simon  of  Cyrene,  who  bore  the  on- 
ly part  of  the  crofs,  was  overcome  by  it,  and  the  foldiers 

were 


3Q  SERMON     I, 

were  under  the  neceflity  of  ufing  violence  to  force  him  to* 
continue  this  melancholy  office  to  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
The  fulnefs  alone  of  the  law  is  confolatory  ;  in  proportion 
as  you  retrench  from  it,  it  becomes  heavy  and  irkfome  j 
the  more  you  wifh  to  foften  it,  the  more  it  weighs  you 
down  ;  on  the  contrary,  by  fometimes  adding  extraneous 
rigours,  you  feel  the  load  diminifhed,  as  if  you  had  applu 
ed  additional  foftnefs  :  Whence  comes  this  ?  It  is,  that 
the  imperie£r.  obfervance  of  the  law  takes  its  fource  from 
z.  heart  which  the  paffions  ftill  mare ;  now,  according  to 
the  word  of  Jefus  Chrift,  a  heart  divided,  and  which  nou- 
rishes two  loves,  muft  be  a  kingdom  and  a  theatre  full  of 
trouble  and  defolation. 

Would  you  wifh  a  natural  image  of  it,  drawn  from  the 
holy  fcriptures  ?  Rebecca,  on  the  point  of  her  delivery  of 
Jacob  and  Efau,  furTered  the  moft  cruel  anguifh  :  The  two 
children  ftruggled  within  her  ;  and,  as  if  worn  out  by  her 
tortures,  fhe  entreated  of  the  Lord,  either  death  or  deliv- 
erance :  Be  not  furprifed,  faid  a  voice  from  heaven  to 
her,  if  your  fufferings  are  extreme,  and  that  it  cofts  you 
fo  much  to  become  a  mother  ;  the  reafon  is,  you  carry  twd 
nations  in  your  womb.  Such  is  your  hiftory,  my  dear 
hearers ;  you  are  furprifed  that  it  cofts  you  fo  much  to  ac- 
complifli  a  pious  work  ;  to  bring  forth  Jefus  Chrift ;  the 
new  man  in  your  heart  :  Alas  !  The  reafon  is,  that  you 
ftill  preferve  there  two  loves,  which  are  irreconcileable, 
Jacob  and  Efau,  the  love  of  the  world,  and  the  love  of 
Jefus  Chrift  :  It  is  becaufe  you  carry  within  you  two  na- 
tions, as  I  may  fay,  who  make  continual  war  againft  each 
other.  If  the  love  of  Jefus  Chrift  alone  poffefled  your 
heart,  all  there  would  be  calm  and  peaceable  ;  but  you  ftill 
nourifh  iniquitous  paflions  in  it :  You  ftill  love  the  world, 

th« 


o:t  salvation. 


33 


the  pleafures  and  diflinclions  of  fortune, :  You  cannot  en- 
dure thofe  who  eclipfc  you  :  Your  heart  is  full  of  jealou .. 
fies,  of  animofities,  of  frivolous  defires*  of  criminal  at- 
tachments ;  and  from  thence  it  comes,  that  your  facrinccs, 
like  thole  of  Cain,  being  always  imperfect,  like  his,  arc 
always  gloomy  and  difagreeable. 

•  Serve  then  the  Lord  with  ail  your  heart,  and  you  will 
ferve  him  with  joy  :  Give  yourfelf  up  to  him  without  re- 
ferve,  without  retaining  the  fmalleft  right  over  your  paf- 
fions  :  Obferve  the  righteoufnefles  of  the  law,  in  all  their 
fullnefs,  and  they  will  fried  holy  pleafures  through  your 
heart  :  For,  thus  fays  the  prophet,  "  The  ftatutes  of  the 
"  Lord  are  right,  rejoicing  the  heart."  Think  not  that  the 
tears  of  penitence  are  always  bitter  and  gloomy  :  The 
mourning  is  only  external ;  when  fmcerc,  they  have  a 
thoufand  fecret  recompences  :  The  upright  foul  refembles 
the  facred  bufh  ;  nothing  ftrikes  your  view  but  prickles 
and  thorns  ;  \but  you  fee  not  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  which 
dwells  within  it  :  You  fee  only  failings  and  bodily  fuffer- 
ings ;  but  you  perceive  not  the  holy  unflion,  which 
foothes  and  foftens  them  :  You  fee  filence,  retirement, 
flight  from  the  world  and  its  pleafures,  but  you  behold  nof; 
the  invifible  comforter,  who  replaces,  with  fo  much  ufury, 
the  fociety  of  men,  now  become  infupportable,  fince  they 
have  begun  to  talte  that  of  God  :  You  fee  a  life  apparently- 
gloomy  and  tirefome  ;  but  you  are  incapable  of  feeing  tfre 
peace  and  the  joy  of  that  innocence  which  reigns  within. 
It  is  there,  that  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all 
confolation,  fo  liberally  fheds  his  favours,  and  that  the  foul, 
unable  fometimes  to  fupport  their  fullnefs  and  excefs,  is 
obliged  to  entreat  the  Lord  to  fufpend  the  torrent  of  his 

kindnefs. 
Vol.  I.  E 


34  SERMO  N      \, 

krndnefs*  and  to  meafure  the  abundance  of  his  gilts,  by  the 

weakncfs  of  his  creature. 

Come  yourfelf,  my  dear  hearer,  and  make  an  happy  ex- 
perience of  it ;  come,  and  put  the  fidelity  of  your  God  to 
the  trial  ;  it  is  here  he  wifhes  to  be  tried  ;  come  and  prove 
Whether  or  not  we  render  falfe  teftimonies  to  his  mercies  ; 
if  we  attract  the  fmner  by  falfe  hopes,  and  if  his  gifts  are 
not  flill  more  abundant  than  our  promifes.  You  have  long 
tried  the  world  ;  you  have  found  it  deftitute  of  fidelity  :  it 
flattered  you  with  hopes  of  accomplifhing  every  thing  ; 
pleafures,  honours,  imaginary  happinefs  ;  it  has  deceived 
you  ;  you  are  unhappy  in  it  ;  you  have  never  been  able  to 
attain  a  fituation  anfwerable  to  your  wifhes  or  expectations  ; 
come  and  fee  if  your  God  will  be  more  faithful  to  you  ;  if 
only  bitternefs  and  difgufts  are  to  be  found  in  his  fervice  ;. 
if  he  promifes  more  than  he  beftows  ;  if  he  is  an  ungrateful, 
changeable,  or  whimfical  mafter  ;  if  his  yoke  is  a  cruel  fer- 
vitude,  or  a  fweet  liberty  :  If  the  duties  which  he  exacls 
from  us,  are  the  punifhment  of  his  flaves,  or  the  confola- 
tion  of  his  children  ;  and  if  he  deceives  thofe  who  ferve 
him.  My  God  !  How  little  would  ft  thou  be  worthy  of  our 
hearts,  wert  thou  not  more  amiable,  more  faithful,  and 
more  worthy  of  being  ferved,  than  this  miferable  world  ! 

But,  in  order  to  ferve  him  as  he  wifhes  to  be  ferved,  we 
muft  eileem  the  glory  and  the  happinefs  of  his  fervice  ; 
we  muft  prefer  this  happinefs  to  all  others,  and  labour  in  it 
with  fi'ricerity;  Without  referve,  and  with  a  ripe  and  watch- 
ful circutofpeclioii  ;  for  if  it  is  a  common  fault  to  want 
fervour  in  the  bufinefs  of  our  eternal  falvation,  and  to  be- 
come difgufted  with  it  ;  it  is  iikewife  a  much  more  general 
one  to  fail  of  prudence,  and  to  miilake  our  path  towards  it. 

■Part 


ou  Salvation.  35 

Part  II. — An  enterprife  where  the  dangers  arc  daily, 
and  miftakes  common ;  where  amongft  fo  manv  differ- 
ent routs  which  appear  fafe,  there  is,  however,  only  one 
true  and  unerring,  and  the  fuccefs  of  which  muff,  never- 
theless, decide  our  eternal  deftiny  :  An  enterprife  of  this 
nature  furely  requires  uncommon  exertions  ;  and  never 
had  we  occafion,  in  the  conduct  of  any  other,  for  fo  much 
eircumfpection  and  prudence.  Now  that  fuca  is  the  en- 
terprife of  Salvation,  it  would  be  needle fs  to  wafle  time 
in  proving  here,  and  equally  fo  for  you  to  doubt  ;  the  on- 
ly objeB;  of  importance,  then,  to  eltabliiii,  is,  the  rules 
and  the  marks  of  this  prudence,  which  is  to  guide  us  in  fo 
dangerous  and  fo  eflential  an  affair. 

The  firft  rule  is,  Not  to  determine  ourfelves  by  chance 
amongfl  that  multiplicity  of  ways  which  mankind  purfue  ; 
carefully  to  examine  all,  independent  of  ufages  and  cuftoms 
which  may  authorife  them  ;  in  the  affair  of  our  falvation* 
to  give  nothing  to  opinion  or  example  :  The  fecond  is, 
When  we  have  finally  determined,  to  leave  nothing  to  the 
uncertainty  of  events,  and  always  to  prefer  fafety  to  dan.- 
ger. 

Such  are  the  common  rules  of  prudence  adopted  by  the 
children  of  the  age,  in  thepurfuit  of  their  pretentions  and 
their  temporal  expectations  :  Eternal  falvation  is  the-only  af- 
fair in  which  they  are  neglected.  In  the  fjril  place,  No  perfon 
examines  if  his  ways  are  fure  ;  nor  docs  he  ever  require 
any  other  pledge  of  his  fafety,  than  the  crowd  winch  he 
fees  marching  before  him.  Secondly,  In  the  doubts  which 
fpring  up  during  our  proceedings,  the  party  the  moil 
gerous-  to  falvation,  having  always  fell-love  in  its  favour, 
is  always  preferred  :  Two  important  and  common  errors 

in 


%6  S  E  R  M  O  N     I. 

in  the  affair  of  eternal  falvation,  which  it  is  necefTary  to 
combat  here.  The  firft  rule,  is,  not  to  determine  by 
chance,  and  in  the  affair  of  eternity  to  give  nothing  to  opi- 
nion or  example,  Indeed,  the  upright  is  every  where  re- 
prefented  to  us  in  the  holy  writings,  as  a  judicious  and 
prudent  man ;  who  calculates,  who  compares,  who  exa- 
mines, who  difcriminates  ;  who  tries  whatever  may  be  the 
moll  proper ;  who  does  not  lightly  believe  every  tancy  ; 
who  carries  before  him  the  torch  of  the  law,  that  his  fleps 
may  be  enlightened,  and  that  he  may  not  be  in  danger  of 
rni/iaking  his  way.  The  finner,  on  the  contrary,  is  there 
held  out  as  a  fooliffi  man,  who  marches  by  chance,  and 
who,  in  the  moft  dangerous  paries,  advances  forward  with 
confidence,  as  if  he  was  travelling  in  the  flraighteft  and  mofl 
certain  path. 

Now,  my  brethren,  fuch  is  the  fituation  of  aimoft.  all 
men  in  the  affair  of  falvation.  In  every  other  matter,  pru- 
dent, attentive,  diffident,  aclive  to  difcover  any  errors 
concealed  under  the  common  prejudices  ;  it  is  in  falvation 
alone,  that  nothing  can  equal  our  credulity  and  imprudence. 
Yes,  my  brethren,  We  tell  you  every  day,  that  the  life  of 
the  world,  which  is  to  fay,  that  lite  of  amufement,  of  in- 
utility, of  vanity,  of  fhow,  of  effeminacy,  exempt  even 
from  great  crimes  ;  that  this  life,  I  fay,  is  not  a  chrifiian 
one,  and  confequently  is  a  lite  of  reprobation  and  infideli- 
ty :  It  is  the  doctrine  of  that  religion  in  which  you  are 
born  ;  and  fince  your  infancy  you  have  been  nourifhed  in 
thefe  holy  truths.  The  world,  on  the  contrary,  affirms 
ibis  to  be  the  only  life,  which  perfonsof  a  certain  rank  can 
lead  ;  that  not  to  conform  themfelves  to  it,  would  betray  a 
baibarity  of  manners,  in  which  there  would  be  more  fin- 
gularity  and  mearmefs,  than  reafon  or  virtue. 

I  even 


ON    SALVATION.  37 

I  even  confent  that  it  may  ftil-1  be  eonfidercd  as  dubious, 
whether  the  world  or  we  have  reafon  on  our  fide  ;  and  that 
this  grand  difpute  may  not  yet  be  decided  5  neverthelcfs, 
as  a  horrible  alternative  depends  upon  it,  and  that  any  mif- 
take  here  is  the  worft  of  all  evils,  it  appears  that  prudence 
requires  us  to  clear  it  up  at  Icaft,  before  we  take  the  final 
ftep.  It  is  furely  natural  to  hefitate  between  two  contend- 
ing parties,  particularly  where  our  falvation  is  the  fubjecr. 
of  difpute  :  Now,  I  afk  you,  Entering  into  the  world, 
and  adopting  its  manners,  its  maxims,  and  its  cuiloms,  as 
you  have  adopted  them,  have  you  begun  by  examining 
whether  it  had  reafon  on  its  fide,  and  it  we  were  wrong  and 
ialfe  deceivers  ?  The  world  wifhes  you  to  afpire  to  the  fa- 
vours of  fortune,  and  to  neglect,  neither  cares,  exertions, 
meannefies,  nor  artifices  to  procure  them  ;  you  follow  thefe 
plans ;  but  have  you  examined  if  the  gofpel  does  not  con- 
tradict and  forbid  them  ?  The  world  boafts  of  luxury,  of 
magnificence,  of  the  delicacies  of  the  table  ;  and  in  matters 
of  expence,  it  deems  nothing  exceflive  but  what  may  tend 
to  derange  the  circumfrances  :  Have  you  informed  your- 
felves,  whether  the  law  of  God  does  not  prefcribe  a  more 
holy  ufe  of  the  riches  which  we  hold  only  from  him  ? 
The  worTd  authorifes  continual  pleafures  ;  gaming,  thea- 
tres, and  treats  with  ridicule  whoever  dare  venture  even  to 
doubt  their  innocence  :  Have  you  found  this  decifion  in 
the  forrowful  and  crucifying  maxims  of  Jefus  Chrift  ? 

The  world  approves  of  certain  fufpicious  and  odious 
ways  of  increafing  the  patrimony  of  our  fathers,  and  pla- 
ces no  other  bounds  to  our  defires  than  thofe  of  the  laws, 
which  punifh  violence  and  manifefl  injuflice  :  Can  you 
affure  us,  that  the  rules  of  the  confeience  do  not  obferve 
more  narrowly,  and  with  regard  to  thefe  matters,  do  not 

enter 


58  S  £  R  M  0  N     I. 

enter  into  difcuffions,  winch  the  world  is  totally  unac- 
quainted with  ?  The  world  has  declared,  that  a  gentle, 
effeminate,  and  idle  life,  is  an  innocent  life  ;  and  that 
virtue  is  not  fo  rigid  and  auftere  as  we  wifh  to  make  it  ; 
before  giving  credit  tc  this  merely  upon  its  affertion,  have 
you  confulted  whether  the  doclrine  brought  us  by  Jefus 
Chrifl  from  heaven,  fubfcribed  to  the  novelty,  and  to  the 
danger  of  thefe  maxims  ? 

What,  my  brethren  !  In  the  affair  of  your  eternity,  with- 
out examination  or  attention,  you  adopt  common  prejudices, 
merely  becaufe  they  are  eftablifhed  ?  You  blindly  follow 
thofe  who  march,  before  you,  without  examining  where  the 
path  leads  to  which  they  keep  ?  You  even  deign  not  to  en- 
quire at  yourfelves  whether  or  not  you  are  deceived  ?  You 
are  fatisfied  in  knowing  that  you  are  not  the  only  perfons 
miftaken  ?  What  !  in  the  bufinefs  which  muff,  decide  your 
eternal  defiiny,  you  do  not  even  make  ufe  of  your  reafon  ? 
You  demand  no  other  pledge  of  your  fafety,  than  the  ge- 
neral error  ?  You  have  no  doubt  or  fufpicion  ?  You  think  it 
imneceffary  to  inform  yourfelves  ?  You  have  no  miflrufl  ? 
All  is  good,  and  in  your  opinion  as  it  ought  to  be  ?  You  who 
are  fo  nice,  fo  difficult,  10  miftruflful,  fo  full  of  precaution 
when  your  worldly  interefts  are  in  queffion  ;  in  this  grand 
affair  alone,  you  conduft  yourfelves  by  inflincl,  by  fancy, 
by  foreign  impreflions  ?  You  decide  upon  nothing,  but, 
indolently,  allow  yourfelves  to  be  dragged  away  by  the 
multitude,  and  the  torrent  of  example  ?  You  who,  in  every 
other  matter,  would  biufh  to  think  like  the  crowd  ;  you  who 
pique  yourfelves  upon  fuperiority  of  genius,  and  upon 
leaving  to  the  common  people,  and  to  weak  minds,  all  vul- 
gar prejudices  ;  you  who  carry  to  ridiculous  extreme,  per- 
haps, your  mode  of  thinking  on  every  other  point,  upon 

falvation 


ON   SALVATION.  gg 

falvation  alone,  you  think  with  the  crowd,  and  it  appears 
that  reafon  is  denied  to  you,  on  this  grand  intereft  alone. 
What,  my   brethren  !  When  you  are  alked,   in  the  fteps 
which  you  take  to  enfure  fuccefs  to  your  worldly  expecta- 
tions, the  reafons  which  have  induced  you  to  prefer  one 
party  to  another,  you  advance  fach  folid  and  prudent  mo- 
tives;  you  juflify  your  choice  by  pro fpe£ls  fo  certain  and- 
decifive  ;  you  appear  to  have  fo  maturely  confidered  them, 
before  adopting  their  execution  ;  and  when  we  demand  o£ 
you   whence   it    comes,    that  in  the  affair  of  your  eternal* 
falvation  you  prefer  the  abufes,  the  eu Horns,  the  maxims, 
of  the  world,  to  the  examples  of  the  faints  who  certainly 
did  not  live  like  you  ;  and  to  the  rules  of  the  gofpel,  which, 
condemn  all  thofe  who  live  as  you  do ;  you  have  nothing. 
to  anfwer,  but  that  you  are  not  lingular,  and  that  you  mufl 
live  like  the  reft  of  the  world.     Great  God  1  to  what  pur- 
pofe  are  great  abilities  in  the  conduct  of  projects  which  wilL 
perilh  with  us  !  We  have  reafons  and  arguments  in  fupport 
of  vanity,  and  we  are  children  with  regard  to  the  truth ; 
we  pique  ourfelves  on  our  wifdom  in  the  affairs  of  the. 
world  ;  and,  alas  !  in  the  bufinefs  of  our  eternal  falvation, 
we  think  it  no  difgracs  to  be  ignorant  and  fooiifh. 

You  will  tell  us,  perhaps,  that  you  are  neither  wife*, 
nor  more  able  than  all  the  others  who  live  like  you  ;  that 
you  cannot  enter  into  difcuflions  which  are  beyond  your 
reach  ;  that  were  we  to  be  believed,  it  would  be  neceiTary 
to  cavil  at,  and  difpute  every  thing  ;  and  that  piety  does 
not  confift  in  refining  to  fuch  an  extreme.  But  I  afk  you, 
Is  fo  much  fubtilty  required  to  know  that  the  world  is  a  de- 
ceitful guide  ?  That  its  maxims  are  rejected  in  the  fchool 
of"  Jcfus  Chrift  ;  and  that  its  cuftoms  can  never  fubvert  the 
jaw  of  God  ?  Is  not  this  the  moil  firople  and  the  mod  com- 
mon 


^0  SERMON     I. 

mon  rule  of  the  gofpel,  and  the  firft  truth  in  the  plan  of 
falvation  ?  To  know  our  .duty,  it  requires  only  to  walk  in 
firaplicity  of  heart.  Suhtilties  are  only  necefrary  in  order 
to  difTernble  with  ourfelves,  and  to  connect,  if  pofhble,  the 
paflions  with  the  holy  rules  ;  there  it  is  that  the  human 
mind  has  occafion  for  all  its  induftry,  for  the  tafk  is  diffi- 
cult :  Such  is  exactly  your  cafe,  you  who  pretend,  that  to 
recal  cuftoms  to  the  law  is  a  ridiculous  refinement  :  To 
know  our  duty,  it  only  requires  conference  with  ourfelves. 
While  Saul  continued  faithful,  he  had  no  occafion  to  con- 
firft  the  forcerefs  with  regard  to  what  he  fhould  do  :  The 
law  of  God  fufficiently  inftrucled  him  :  It  was  only  after 
his  guilt,  that  in  order  to  calm  the  inquietudes  of  a  trou- 
bled confcience,  and  to  connect  his  criminal  weakneffes 
with  the  law  of  God,  he  bethought  himfelf  of  feeking, 
in  the  anfwers  of  a  deceitful  oracle,  fome  authority  favour- 
able to  his  paflions.  Love  the  truth,  and  you  will  foon  ac- 
quire a  knowledge  of  it  :  A  clear  confcience  is  the  beft  of 
all  inftru£tors. 

Not  that  I  wifh  to  blame  thofe  fin  cere  refearches  which 
an  honed  and  timid  foul  makes  to  enlighten  and  inftruct  it- 
felf;  I  wifh  only  to  fay,  that  the  majority  of  doubts  with 
regard  to  our  duties,  in  thofe  hearts  delivered  up  like  you 
to  the  world,  fprings  from  a  ruling  principle  of  cupidity, 
which,  on  the  one  fide,  would  wifh  net  to  interfere  with 
its  infamous  paflions  ;  and,  on  the  other,  have  the  authori- 
ty of  the  law,  to  protect  it  from  the  remorfes  which  attend  a 
manifeft  tranfgreiTion.  For,  befides,  if  you  feek  the  Lord  in 
(ancerity,  and  your  lights  are  infufficient,  there  are  ft  ill  pro- 
phets in  Ifrael  ;  confult  in  proper  time  thofe  who  preferve 
the  form  of  the  law,  and  of  the  holy  doctrine  ;  and  who  teach 
the  way  of  God  in  truth  :    Do  not  propofe  your  doubts 

with 


ON  SALVATION.  ^! 

with  thofc  colourings  and  foftenings  which  always  fix  the 
decifion  in  your  favour:  Do  net  apply  in  order  to  be  de- 
ceived, but  to  be  inflrucled:  Seek  not  favourable,  but 
fure  and  enlightened  guides ;  do  not  content  yourfelves 
even  with  the  teftimony  of  men  :  Confult  the  Lord  fre- 
quently, and  through  different  channels.  The  voice  of 
heaven  is  uniform,  becaufe  the  voice  of  truth,  of  which  it 
is  the  interpreter,  is  the  fame.  If  the  teftimonies  do  not 
accord,  prefer  always  what  places  you  farthell  from  dan- 
ger;  always  miftruft  the  opinion  which  pleafes,  and  which 
already  had  the  fuffrage  of  your  felf-love.  It  rarely  hap- 
pens, that  the  decisions  of  our  inclinations  are  found  the 
fame  with  thofe  of  the  holy  rules  ;  neverthelefs,  it  is  that 
which  decides  on  all  our  preferences  in  the  bufinefs  of  fal- 
vation. — Second  itep  of  our  imprudence  in  the  affair  ot 
our  eternal  falvation. — In  effecl,  there  is  icarcely  a  doubt 
with  regard  to  our  duties,  which  conceals  from  us  the  pre- 
cife  obligation  of  the  law  on  every  flep  :  We  know  the 
paths  by  which  Jefus  Chriff,  and  the  faints,  have  pafTcd  ; 
they  are  ftill  pointed  out  to  us  every  day  ;  we  are  invited 
by  the  fuccefs  which  they  have  had,  to  walk  in  their  fleps. 
In  this  manner,  fay  they  to  us,  with  the  Apoftle,  did 
thofe.  men  of  God  who  have  preceded  us,  overcome  the 
world,  and  obtain  the  performance  of  the  promifes  :  we 
fee  that  by  imitating  them,  we  may  hope  for  all,  and  in  the 
way  in  which  we  walk,  that  every  thing  is  to  be  dreaded. 
Ought  we  to  hefitate  on  this  alternative  ?  Neverthelefs,  in 
every  thing  we  refill:  our  own  lights  ;  everywhere  we  pre- 
fer danger  to  fafety  ;  our  whole  life  is,  indeed,  one  con- 
tinued danger  ;  in  all  our  aftions  we  float,  not  between 
the  more  or  lefs  perfecl,  but  between  guilt  and  fimple  er- 
rors :  Every  time  we  aft,  the  queflion  is  not  to  know 
whether  we  are  doing  the  greateft  good,  but  if  we  are 
Vol.  I.  F  committing 


4-  SERMON     I, 

committing  only  a  flight  fault,  worthy  of  indulgence  : 
All  our  duties  are  limited,  to  the  enquiry  at  ourfelves,  if 
profefling  fuch  principles;  if  to  a  certain  degree,  deliver- 
ing ourfelves  up  to  refentment  ;  if  employing  a  certain  de- 
gree of  duplicity  ;  if  not  denying  ourfelves  a  certain  gra- 
tification be  a  crime,  or  a  venial  fault ;  you  always  hang 
betwixt  thefe  two  deftinies  ;  and  your  confcience  can  never 
render  you  the  teftimony,  that  on  any  occafion  you  made 
choice  of  the  party  in  which  there  was  no  danger. 

Thus,  you  know,  that  a  life  of  pleafure,  of  gaming,  of 
fhow,  of  amufement,  when  even  nothing  grofs  or  crimi- 
nal is  mingled  with  it,  is  a  party  very  doubtful  for  eternity  ; 
no  faint,  at  leak",  has  left  you  fuch  an  example  :  You  are 
fenfible,  that  more  guarded  and  more  Chriftian  manners 
would  leave  you  nothing  fimilar  to  dread  ;  neverthelefs  you 
love  an  accommodating  doubt  better  than  an  irkfome  fafe- 
ty  ;  you  know  that  grace  has  moments  which  never  return  ; 
that  nothing  is  more  uncertain  ti  an  the  return  of  holy  im- 
pulfes  once  rejected  :  that  fahration  deferred  almoft  always 
fails ;  and  iii.it  to  begin  to-day,  is  prudently  affuring  our- 
Ifeives  of  iuccefs  ;  you  know  it;  yet  you  prefer  the  un- 
i  lope  of  a  grace  to  come,  to  the  prefent  falvation 
which  offers  itfelfto  you.  Now,  my  brethren,  I  only  de- 
mand ■  wdrefle&ions,  a.  d  1  fball  finiih.  In  the  firft 
,  When  even  in  this  path  which  you  tread,  the  ba- 
were  equal,  that  is  to  fay,  when  it  were  equally  fuf- 
pirious,  whethei  you  '.re  to  be  faved  or  loft;  did  the  fmal- 
leit  portion  ot  Faith  remain  to  you,  you  would  be  plunged 
in  the  mod  cruel  alarms;  it  ought  to  appear  horrible  to 
you,  that  your  t  e  nal  falvation  was  become  a  problem, 
upon  which  you  knew  not  what  to  decide,  and  upon 
which,  with  equal  appearances  of  truth,  you  might  deter- 
mine 


ON   SALVATION,  43 

iiiine  for  the  happinefs  or  the  mifery  of  your  everlafting 
Jot,  in  the  fame  manner  as  upon  thofe  indifferent  oueitions 
which  God  has  yielded  up  to  the  controverfies  of  men  : 
You  ought  to  undertake  every  thing,  and  to  employ  every 
-exertion  to  place  appearances  at  Jeaff ,  in  your  favour,  and 
to  find  out  a  Situation  where  prejudices  would  be  on  your 
fide  :  And  here,  where  every  thing  concludes  againft  you  ; 
where  the  law  i^  unfavourable  ;  where  you  have  nothing 
in  your  favour  but  fome  fallacious  appearances  of  reafon, 
upon  which,  you  would  not  hazard  the  imalleft  of  your 
temporal  interefts  ;  and  with  manners  which  to  this  period 
have  faved  none,  and  in  which  vou  only  fhrengthen  and 
comfort  yourfelves  by  the  example  of  thofe  who  perifh 
with  you  ;  You  are  tranquil  in  this  path  :  You  admit  of, 
and  acknowledge  the  wifdom  of  thofe  who  have  chofen  a 
more  certain  one;  you  fay  that  they  are  praife-worthy  ; 
that  they  are  happy  who  can  alfume  fuch  a  command  over 
themfelves  ;  that  it  is  much  fafer  to  live  as  they  do  .  you 
fay  this,  and  you  think  it  needle's  to  imitate,  or  follow 
their  example  ?  Madman  !  cries  the  Apoflle,  What  delu- 
fion  is  it  that  blinds  thee  ?  and  wherefore  dofc  thou  not 
obey  that  truth  which  thou  knoweft  ?  Ah  I  my  brethren, 
in  a  choice  which  interefts  our  glory,  our  advancement, 
our  temporal  intereiis,  are  we  capable  of  fuch  impru- 
dence ?  Of  all  the  various  ways  which  prefent  themfelves 
to  ambition,  do  we  leave  thofe  where  every  appearance 
feems  favourable  to  cur  fuccefs,  and  make  choice  of  fuch 
as  lead  to  nothing  ;  where  fortune  is  tardy  and  doubtful ; 
and  which  have  hiiherto  been  only  productive  of  mif- 
fortune  ?  Of  falvation  alone,  therefore,  we  make  a  kind 
of  fpeculation,  if  I  may  venture  to  fpeak  in  this  manner  ; 
that  is  to  fay,  an  undertaking  without  arrangement,  with- 
out precaution,  which  we  abandon  to  the  uncertainty  of 

<. .  ents, 


44  SERMON     I, 

events,  and  of  which  the  fuccefs  can  alone  be  expected 
from  chance,  and  not  from  our  exertions.  In  a  word,  as 
my  laft  rcfieclion,  allow  me  to* aft,  Why  you  fearch  for, 
and  alledge  to  us  fo  many  fpecious  reafons,  as  a  justification 
to  yourfe»v<s,  of  the  manner  in  which  you  live  ?  Either 
you  wifli  to  be  faved,  or  you  are  determined  to  be  loft. 
Do  you  wiCh  to  be  faved  ?  Choofe  then  the  moft  proper 
means  of  attaining  what  you  afpire  to.  Quit  thofe  doubt- 
ful paths,  by  which  none  have  hitherto  been  conducted  to 
it  ;  confine  yourfelves  to  that  which  Jefus  Chrift  has  point- 
ed out  to  us,  and  which  alone  can  f'afely  lead  lis  to  it;  do 
not  apply  yourfelves  to  ieflen  in  your  own  fight  the  dangers 
of  your  own  Situation,  and  to  view  them  in  the  molt  fa- 
vourable light,  in  order  to  dread  them  lefs  ;  rather  magnify 
the  danger  to  your  mind :  We  cannot  dread  too  much, 
what  we  cannot  fhun  too  much  :  And  falvation  is  the 
only  concern  where  precaution  can  never  be  exceffive, 
becaufe  a  mistake  in  it  is  without  remedy.  See  if  thofe 
who  once  followed  the  fame  deceitful  paths  in  which  you 
tread,  and  who  employed  the  fame  reafons  that  you  make 
life  of,  for  their  j  unification,  have  confined  themfelves  to 
them  from  the  moment  that  grace  had  operated  in  their 
hearts,  ferious  and  fincere  defires  of  falvation  :  They  re- 
garded the  dangers  in  which  you  live,  as  incompatible  with 
their  defign  ;  they  fought  more  folid  and  certain  paths  ; 
they  .made  the  holy  fafety  of  retirement,  f  ucceed  to  the 
inutility  and  the  dangers  of  fociety  ;  the  habit  of  prayer, 
to  the  diflipation  of  gaming  and  amufements;  the  guard  of 
the  fenfes,  to  the  indecency  of  drefs,  and  the  danger  of 
public  fpeclacles  ;  Chriftian  mortification,  to  the  foftnefs 
of  an  effeminate  and  fenfual  life  ;  the  gofpel  to  the  world ; 
they  comprehended  that  it  would  be  abfurd  to  wifh  their 
falvation  through  the  fame  means  by  which  others  are  loft. 

But, 


ON   SALVATION".  45 

But,  if  you  are  determined  to  perifh  ;  alas!  Why  will  you 
flill  preserve  meafures  with  religion  ?  Why  will  you  al- 
ways leek  to  place  fome  fpecious  rcafons  on  your  fide  ;  to 
conciliate  your  manners  with  thegofpel ;  and  topreferve,  as 
I  may  fay,  appearances  flill  with  Jefus  Chrift  ?  Why  are 
you  only  half  finners,  and  ftill  leave  to  your  grofTefl  paf- 
fions  the  ufclefs  check  of  the  law  ?  Call  off  the  remains  of 
that  yoke  which  is  irkfome  to  you  ;  and  which,  in  leflen- 
ing  your  pleafares,  leffens  not  your  punifhment.  Why 
(\o  you  accomplifh  your  perdition  with  fo  much  conflraint  ? 
In  place  of  thofe  fcruples,  which  permit  you  only  doubtful 
gains,  and  deny  you  ftill  certain  low,  and  manifeftly  wicked 
profits,  but  which  place  you  in  the  number  of  thofe  re- 
probates who  fhall  never  poflefs  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  over- 
leap thefe  bounds,  and  no  longer  place  any  limits  to  your 
guilt,  but  thofe  of"  your  cupidity  :  In  place  of  thofe  loofe 
and  worldly  manners,  which  will  equally  prove  your  ruin, 
refufe  nothing  to  your  paflions,  and,  like  the  beafts  of  the 
earth,  yield  to  the  gratification  of  every  defire,  Yes,  fin- 
ners, perifh  with  all  the  fruits  of  iniquity,  feeing  you  will 
equally  reap  tears  and  eternal  punifhment. 

But,  no,  my  dear  hearer,  we  only  give  you  thefe  coun- 
fels  of  defpair,  in  order  to  infpire  you  with  a  jufl  horror 
at  them  ;  it  is  a  tender  artifice  of  zeal,  which  only  affumes 
the  appearance  of  exhorting  you  to  deftruclion,  that  you 
may  not  confent  yourfelves  :  alas  !  follow  rather  thofe  re- 
mains of  light,  which  ftill  point  out  the  truth  to  you  at  a 
diftance  ;  it  is  not  without  reafon  that  the  Lord  has  hitherto 
preferved  within  you  thefe  feeds  of  j'alvation,  and  has  not 
permitted  all,  even  to  the  principles,  to  be  blotted  out :  It 
is  a  claim  which  he  flill  prefei  ves  to   your   heart  :  Take 

care 


/6  S  E  R  M  O  N      U 

care  only  that  you  found  not  upon  this,  the  vain  hope  of  a 
future  convcifion  :  We  are  not  permitted  to  hope,  till  we 
have  hegun  to  labour.  Begin,  then,  the  grand  work  of 
your  eternal  falvation,  for  which,  alone,  the  Almighty  has 
placed  you  upon  the  earth  ;  and  on  which  you  have  never 
as  yet  bellowed  even  a  thought.  Efteem  fo  important  a 
care  ;  prefer  it  to  all  others  ;  find  your  only  pleafures  in 
applying  to  it  ;  examine  the  fureft  and  mod  proper  mean3 
to  rucceed,  and  nx  upon  them,  whoever  they  coft,  from 
the  moment  ycu  have  found  them  out. 

Such  is  the  prudence  of  the  gofpel,  fo  often  recommend- 
ed by  Jefus  Chrifi ;  beyond  that,  all  is  vanity  and  error  : 
You  may  poffefs  a  fuperior  mind,  capable  of  every  exer- 
tion ;  and  rare  and  mining  talents  ;  if  you  err  with  regard 
to  your  eternal  falvation,  you  are  a  child,  Solomon,  fo 
efteemed  in  the  eaft  for  his  wifdom,  is  a  maaman,  whofe 
folly  we  can  now  with  difficulty  comprehend  :  All  worldly 
reafon  is  but  a  mockery,  a  dazzling  of  the  fenfes,  if  it 
miflakes  the  decifcve  point  of  eternity  :  There  is  nothing 
important  In  life  but  this  iingle  objeft  ;  all  the  reft  is  a 
dream,  in  which  any  mistake  is  cf  little  confequence. 
Truft  not  yor.rfelves,  therefore,  to  the  multitude,  which 
is  the  party  cf  thefe  who  err  :  Take  not  as  guides,  men 
who  can  never  be  your  fureties ;  leave  nothing  to 
chance,  or  to  the  uncertainty  of  events ;  it  is  the  height  of 
folly  where  eternity  is  concerned  ;  remember  that  there  is 
an  infinity  of  paths,  which  appear  right  to  men,  yet  never- 
thelefs  conduct  to  death  :  That  aim  oil  all  who  periffi,  do  it 
in  the  belief  that  they  are  in  the  way  of  falvation  ;  and  that 
all  reprobates,  ift  day,  when  they  mall  hear  their 

fentence  pronounced,   will  be  -  furprifed,    fays  the  gofpel, 

at 


ON  SALVATION.  47 

at  their  condemnation  ;  becaufe  they  all  expeaed  the  inhe- 
ritance of  the  juft.  It  is  thus,  that  after  having  waited  for 
it  in  this  life,  according  to  the  rules  of  faith,  you  will  for 
ever  enjoy  it  in  heaven. 

Now,  to  God,  &c. 


SERMON 


>*s<r^s#srs^ 


SERMON   II. 

ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED. 


Luke  iv.  27. 

And  many  Lepers  were  in  Ifrael  in  the  time  of  Elzfeus  the 
Prophet:  and  none  of  them  was  cleanfed,  faving 
N a  am  an  the  Syrian. 

-L/Very  day,  my  brethren,  you  continue  to  demand  of 
us,  if  the  road  to  heaven  is  really  fo  difficult,  and  the 
number  of  the  faved  is  indeed  fo  fmall  as  we  fay.  To  a  quef- 
tion,  fo  often  propofcd,  and  ftill  oftener  refolved,  our  Sa- 
viour anfwers  you  at  prefent,  that  there  were  many  widows 
in  Ifrael  afflicted  with  famine  ;  but  the  widow  of  Sarepta 
was  alone  found  worthy  the  fuccour  of  the  Prophet  Elias  : 
That  the  number  of  lepers  was  great  in  Ifrael  in  the  time 
of  the  Prophet  Elifeus ;  and  that  Naaman  was  the  only 
one  cured  by  the  man  of  God. 

Were  I  here,  my  brethren,  for  the  purpofe  of  alarming, 
rather  than  inftrufting  you,  I  needed  only  to  recapitulate 
what  in  the  holy  writings  we  find  dreadful,  with  regard  to 
this  great  truth  -,  and  running  over  the  hiftory  of  the  juft, 
from  age  to  age,  to  (hew  you,  that  in  all  times  the  number 

of 


ON   THE   SMALL   NUMBER   OF   THE   SAVED.  49 

of  the  favcd  has  been  very  fmall.  The  family  of  Noah 
alone  faved  from  the  general  flood  :  Abraham,  choien  from 
amongft  men,  to  be  the  fole  depository  of  the  coveaant 
with  God  :  Jofhua  and  Caleb,  the  only  two  of  fix  hundred 
thoufand  Hebrews,  who  faw  the  land  of  promife :  Job 
the  only  upright  man  in  the  land  of  Uz  :  Lot,  in  Sodom. 
To  reprefentations  fo  alarming,  would  have  fucceeded  the 
fayings  of  the  Prophets.  In  Ifaiah,  you  would  fee  the 
ele£r.  as  rare  as  the  grapes,  which  are  found  after  the  vint- 
age, and  have  efcaped  the  fearch  of  the  gatherer ;  as  rare 
as  the  blades  which  remain  by  chance  in  the  field,  and  have 
efcaped  the  fcythe  of  the  mower.  The  Evangelift  would 
ftill  have  added  new  traits  to  the  terrors  of  thefe  immages. 
I  might  have  fpoken  to  you  of  two  roads  ;  of  which  one  is 
narrow,  rugged,  and  the  path  of  a  very  fmall  number  ; 
the  other  broad,  open,  and  ftrewed  with  flowers  ;  and  al- 
rnoft  the  general  path  of  men.  That  every  where,  in  the 
holy  writings,  the  multitude  is  always  fpoken  of,  as  form- 
ing the  party  of  the  reprobate  ;  while  the  faved,  compared 
with  the  reft  of  mankind;  form  only  a  fmall  flock,  fcarce- 
ly  perceptible  to  the  fight.  I  would  have- left  you  in  fears 
with  regard  to  your  falvation ;  always  cruel  to  thofe  who 
have  not  renounced  faith,  and  every  hope  of  being  amongft 
the  faved.  But  what  would  it  ferve,  to  limit  the  fruits  of 
this  inftruclion,  to  the  fingle  point  of  proving,  how  \'ew 
perfons  are  faved  ?  Alas !  I  would  make  the  danger  known, 
without  inftru&ing  you  how  to  avoid  it  :  I  would  (hew  you, 
with  the  Prophet,  the  fword  of  the  wrath  of  God,  fuf- 
pendedover  your  heads,  without  aflifting  you  to  efcape  the 
threatened  blow  :  I  would  alarm  the  conference,  without 
inftru&inff  the  finner. 

My  intention  is  therefore  to-day,  in  our  morals  and  man- 
ner of  life,  to  fearch  for  the  caufe  of  this  number  being  fo 
Vol.  I.  G  irca 


50  SERMON     II. 

final! .  As  every  one  flatters  himfelf  he  will  not  be  .-exclud- 
ed, it  is  of  importance  to  examine  if  his  confidence  be 
well  founded.  I  wifh  not,  in  marking  to  you  the  caufes 
which  render  falvation  fo  rare,  to  make  you  generally  con- 
clude, that  few  will  be  faved  ;  but  to  bring  you  to  afk  of 
yourfelves,  if  living  as  you  live,  you  can  hope  to  be  fo. 
Who  am  I  ?  What  is  it  I  do  for  heaven ;  and  what  can  be 
my  hopes  in  eternity  ?  I  propofe  no  other  order,  in  a  matter 
of  fuch  importance.  What  are  the  caufes  which  render 
falvation  fo  rare  ?  I  mean  to  point  out  three  principal  ones, 
which  is  the  only  arrangement  of  this  difcourfe.  Art  and 
far-fought  reafonings  would  here  be  ill-timed.  O  attend, 
therefore,  be  whom  you  may !  No  fubjeft  can  be  more 
worthy  your  attention,  fince  it  goes  to  inform  you,  what 
may  be  the  hopes  of  your  eternal  deftiny. 


Part  I.  Few  are  faved  ;  becaufe  in  that  number  we  can 
only  comprehend  two  defcriptions  of  perfons ;  either  thofe 
who  have  been  fo  happy  as  to  preferve  their  innocence  pure 
and  undefiled ;  or  thofe,  who  after  having  loft,  have  re- 
gained it  by  penitence  : — Firft  caufe.  There  are  only  thefe 
two  ways  of  falvation  ;  and  heaven  is  only  open  to  the  in- 
nocent or  the  penitent.  Now  ot  which  party  are  you  ? 
Are  you  innocent  ?  Are  you  penitent  ? 

Nothing  unclean  fhall  enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  We 
muft  confequently  carry  there,  either  an  innocence  unful- 
lied,  or  an  innocence  regained.  Now,  to  die  innocent,  is 
a  grace  to  which  few  fouls  can  afpire ;  and  to  live  penitent, 
is  a  mercy,  which  the  relaxed  ftate  of  our  morals  renders 
equally  rare.  Who  indeed  will  pretend  to  falvation,  by  the 
claim  of  innocence  ?  Where  are  the  pure  fouls  in  whom  fm 

has 


ON   THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OE  THE   SAVED  £1 

has  never  dwelt ;  and  who  have  preferved  to  the  end  the  fa;, 
cred  treafure  of  grace  confided  to  them  by  baptifm,  and 
which  our  Saviour  will  re-demand  at  the  awful  day  of 
punifhment  ? 

In  thofe  happy  days,  when  the  whole  church  was  ftill 
but  an  afTembly  of  faints,  it  was  very  uncommon  to  find 
an  inftance  of  a  believer,  who,  after  having  received  the 
gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  acknowledged  Jefus  Chrift  in 
the  facrament,  which  regenerates  us,  fell  back  to  his  for* 
mer  irregularities  of  life.  Ananias  and  Saphira  were  the 
only  prevaricators  in  the  church  of  Jerusalem  ;  that  of 
Corinth,  had  only  one  inceftuou3  finner.  Church  peni- 
tence was  then  a  remedy  almoft  unknown;  and  fcarcely 
was  there  found  among  thefe  true  Israelites  one  (ingle  leper, 
whom  they  were  obliged  to  drive  from  the  holy  altar,  and 
feparate  from  communion  with  his  brethren.  But  fincc 
that  time,  the  number  of  the  upright  diminiihes,  in  pro- 
pertion  as  that  of  believers  increafes.  It  would  appear, 
that  the  world,  pretending  now  to  have  become  almoft  ge- 
nerally Chriftian,  has  brought  with  it  into  the  Church  its 
corruptions  and  its  maxims.  Alas  !  we  all  go  aftray,  al- 
moft from  the  breaft  of  our  mothers  !  The  firft  ufe  which 
we  make  of  our  heart  is  a  crime  ;  our  firft  defires  are  paf- 
fions  ;  and  our  reafon  only  expands  and  increafes  on  the 
wrecks  of  our  innocence.  The  earth,  fays  a  Prophet,  is 
infected  by  the  corruption  of  thofe  who  inhabit  it :  All 
have  violated  the  laws,  changed  the  ordinances,  and  bro- 
ken the  alliance  which  fhould  have  endured  for  ever  :  AJi 
commit  fin  ;  and  fcarcely  is  there  one  to  be  found,  who 
does  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Injuftice,  calumny,  lying, 
treachery,  adultery,  and  the  blackeft  crimes,  have  deluged 
the  earth.  The  brother  lays  fnares  for  his  brother  ;  the  fa- 
ther 


52  SERMON     II. 

ther  is  divided  from  his  children  ;  tho  hufoand  from  his 
wife  :  There  is  no  tie  which  a  vile  intereft  does  not  dif- 
folve  :  Good  faith  and  probity  are  no  longer  virtues  but 
among  the  fimple  people  ;  animofities  are  endlefs  ;  recon- 
ciliations feints  ;  and  never  is  a  former  enemy  regarded  as 
a  brother  :  They  tear,  they  devour  each  other.  AITem- 
blies  are  no  longer  but  for  the  purpofe  of  public  and  gene- 
ral cenfure.  The  pureft  virtue  is  no  longer  a  prote&ion 
from  the  malignity  of  tongues.  Gaming  is  become  either 
a  trade,  a  fraud,  or  a  fury.  Repafts,  thofe  innocent  ties 
of  fociety,  degenerate  into  excefles,  of  which  we  dare  not 
fpeak.  Our  age  witnefTes  horrors,  with  which  our  forefa- 
thers were  unacquainted.  Behold  then  already  one  path  of 
falvation  (hut  to  the  generality  of  men.  All  have  erred. 
Be  whom  you  may,  who  liften  to  me  at  prefent,  the  time 
has  been,  when  fin  reigned  over  you  :  Age  may  perhaps 
have  calmed  your  paflions  ;  but  what  was  your  youth  ? 
Long  and  habitual  infirmities  may  perhaps  have  difgufted 
you  with  the  world ;  but  what  ufe  did  you  formerly  make 
of  the  vigour  of  your  health  ?  A  fudden  infpiration  of 
grace  may  have  turned  your  heart ;  but  do  you  not  moil 
fervently  intreat,  that  every  moment  prior  to  that  infpira- 
tion may  be  effaced  from  the  remembrance  of  the  Lord  ! 

But  with  what  am  I  taking  up  my  time  ?  We  are  all  Tin- 
ners, O  my  God  !  And  thou  knoweft  our  hearts  :  What 
we  know  of  our  errors,  is  perhaps  in  thy  fight  the  moft 
pardonable  ;  and  we  all  allow,  that  by  innocence,  we  have 
no  claim  to  falvation.  There  remains,  therefore,  only  one 
refource,  which  is  penitence.  After  our  fhipwreck,  fay 
the  faints,  it  is  the  happy  plank,  which  alone  can  conduct 
us  into  port ;  there  is  no  other  mean  of  falvation  for  us. 
Be  whom  you  may,  prince  or  fubjeft,  great  or  low,  peni- 
tence 


ON   THE  SMALL   NUMBER   OF   THE   SAVED.  53 

fence  alone  can  fave  you.  Now  permit  me  to  afk,  where 
are  the  penitent  ?  You  will  find  more,  fays  a  holy  father, 
who  have  never  fallen,  than  who,  after  their  fall,  have  raif- 
ed  themfelves  by  true  repentance  :  This  is  a  terrible  faying  ; 
but  do  not  let  us  carry  things  too  far  ;  The  truth  is  fuffi- 
ciently  dreadful,  without  adding  new  terrors  to  it  by  vain 
declamation. 

Let  us  only  examine,  if  the  majority  of  us  have  a  right 
through  penitence  to  falvation.  What  is  a  penitent*?  Ac- 
cording to  Tertullian,  a  penitent  is  a  believer,  who  feels 
every  moment  the  unhappinefs  which  he  formeriy  had,  to 
iorget  and  lofe  his  God  ;  who  has  his  guilt  incelTantly  be- 
fore his  eyes  ;  who  finds  every  where  the  traces  and  re- 
membrance of  it; 

A  penitent  is  a  man,  entrufted  by  God,  with  judgment 
againft  himfelf;  who  refufes  himfelf  the  moil  innocent 
pleafures,  becaufe  he  had  formerly  indulged  in  the  moll 
criminal  ;  who  puts  up  with  the  moll  neceffary  ones  with 
pain ;  who  now  regards  his  body  as  an  enemy,  whom  it  is 
necefTary  to  conquer  ;  as  an  unclean  vefTel  which  mufl  be 
purified  ;  as  an  unfaithful  debtor,  of  whom  it  is  proper  to 
exa£l  the  lafl  farthing  ;  a  penitent  regards  himfelf  as  a  cri- 
minal condemned  to  death,  becaufe  he  no  longer  is  wor- 
thy of  life.  In  the  lofs  of  riches  or  health,  he  fees  only  a 
privation  of  favours  that  he  had  formerly  abufed  ;  in  the 
humiliations  which  happen  to  him,  but  the,  pains  of  his 
guilt ;  in  the  agonies  with  which  he  is  racked,  but  the  com- 
mencement of  thofe  punifhments  he  has  juftly  merited  ; 
fuch  is  a  penitent.  But  I  again  afk  you,  where  amongft  us 
are  penitents  of  this  defcription  ?  Now  look  around  you. 
I  do  not  tell  you  to  judge  your  brethren,  but  to  examine 

what 


£4  SERMON     II. 

what  are  the  manners  and  morals  of  thofe  who  furround 
you  ;  nor  do  I  fpeak  of  thofe  open  and  avowed  finners  ; 
who  have  thrown  off  even  the  appearance  of  virtue,  I  fpeak 
only  of  thofe  who  like  yourfeives  live  like  the  generality  ; 
and  whofe  actions  prefent  nothing  to  the  public  view,  par- 
ticularly fhameful  or  depraved.  They  are  Tinners  ;  and 
they  admit  of  it  :  You  are  not  innocent ;  and  you  confefs 
it  yourfeives.  Now,  are  they  penitent ;  or  are  you  ?  Age, 
avocations,  more  ferious  employments,  may  perhaps  have 
checked  the  fallies  of  youth  :  Even  the  bitternefs  which  the 
Almighty  has  made  attendant  on  our  paflions  ;  the  deceits, 
the  treacheries  of  the  world  ;  an  injured  fortune,  with  a 
ruined  confutation,  may  have  cooled  the  ardour,  and  con- 
fined the  irregular  defires  ol  your  heart  :  Crimes  may  have 
difgufted  you  even  with  crimes  ;  for  paflions  gradually  ex- 
tinguifh  themfelves.  Time,  and  the  natural  inconftancy  of 
the  heart,  will  bring  thefe  about ;  yet  neverthelefs,  though 
detached  from  fin  by  incapability,  you  are  no  nearer  your 
God.  According  to  the  world,  you  are  become  more  pru- 
dent, more  regular,  more  what  it  calls  men  of  probity  ; 
more  exacl;  in  fulfilling  your  public  or  private  duties  ;  but 
you  are  not  penitent.  You  have  ceafed  from  your  difor- 
ders ;  but  you  have  not  expiated  them  :  You  are  not  con- 
verted :  This  great  ftroke  ;  this  grand  change  of  the  heart, 
which  regenerates  man,  has  not  yet  been  felt  by  you.  Ne- 
verthelefs this  fituation,  fo  truly  dangerous,  does  not  alarm 
you  ;  Sins,  which  have  never  been  walhed  away  by  finceie 
repentance,  and  consequently  never  obliterated  from  the 
book  of  life,  appear  in  your  eyes  as  no  longer  exifting  ;  and 
you  [will  tranquilly  leave  this  world  in  a  ftate  of  impeni- 
tence, fo  much  the  more  dangerous,  as  you  will  die,  with- 
out being  fenfible  of  your  danger.  What  I  fay  here,  is  not 
merely  a  ralh  expreflion,  or  an  emotion  of  zeal :  Nothing 

is- 


ON   THE   SMALL   NUMBER   OF   THE   SAVED  £5 

is  more  real,  or  more  exaclly  true  :  It  is  the  fituation  of  al- 
moft  all  men,  even  the  wifeft  and'  mod  efteemed  by  the 
world. 

The  morality  of  the  younger  ftages  in  life  is  always  lax, 
if  not  licentious.  Age,  difguft,  and  eflablifhments  for  life, 
fix  the  heart,  and  withdraw  it  from  debauchery  :  but  where 
are  thofe  who  are  converted  ?  Where  are  thofe  who  expi- 
ate their  crimes  by  tears  of  forrow,  and  true  repentance  ? 
Where  are  thofe,  who  having  begun  as  fmners,  end  as  peni- 
tents ?  Shew  me,  in  your  manner  of  living,  the  fmalleft 
trace  of  penitence.  Are  your  grafpings  at  wealth  and  pow- 
er ;  your  anxieties  to  attain  the  favour  of  the  great,  (and  by 
thefe  means  an  increafe  of  employments  and  influence), 
are  thefe  proofs  of  it  ?  Would  you  wifh  to  reckon  even 
your  crimes  as  virtues  ?  That  the  fufferings  of  your  ambi- 
tion, pride,  and  avarice,  mould  difcharge  you  from  an  ob- 
ligation which  they  themfelves  have  impofed  ?  You  are 
penitent  to  the  world  ;  but  are  you  fo  to  Jefus  Chrift  ?  The 
infirmities  with  which  God  airlifts  you  ;  the  enemies  he 
raifes  againft  you  ;  the  difgraces  and  lofTes  with  which  he 
tries  you  ;  do  you  receive  them  all  as  you  ought,  with  hum- 
ble fubmHIion  to  his  will ;  and  far  from  finding  in  them  oc- 
cafions  of  penitence,  do  you  not  turn  them  into  the  objects 
of  new  crimes  ?  It  is  the  duty  of  an  innocent  foul,  to  re- 
ceive with  fubmiffion  the  chaftifements  of  the  Almighty  ; 
to  difcharge,  with  courage,  the  painful  duties  of  the  ftaiion 
allotted  to  him  ;  and  to  be  faithful  to  the  laws  of  the  gof- 
pel  ;  but  do  fmners  owe  nothing  beyond  this  ?  And  vet 
they  pretend  to  falvation  ;•  but  upon  what  claim  ?  To  fay 
that  you  are  innocent  before  God,  your  own  conference 
will  bearteftimony  againft  you.  To  endeavour  to  perfuade 
yourfelves  that  you  are  penitent;  you  dare  not  ;  and  you 

WOUld 


56  SERMON     II, 

would  condemn  yourfelves  through  your  own  mouths.  Up- 
on what  then  doll  thou  depend,  O  man  !  who  thus  livefl 
fo  tranquil  ? 

And  what  renders  it  (till  more  dreadful  is,  that  acting  in 
this  manner,  you  only  follow  the  torrent :  Your    morals 
are  the  morals  of  almoft  all  men.     You  may,  perhaps,  be 
acquainted  with  fome  ftill  more  guilty,  (for  I  fuppofe  you 
to  have  flill  fome   fentiments  of  religion,  and  regard  for 
your  falvation) ;  but  do  you  know  any  real  penitents  ?  I  am 
afraid  we  mud  fearch  the  deferts  and  folitudes  for  them. 
You  can  fcarcely  particularife  among  perfons  of  rank  and 
ufage   of    the   world,    a  fmall  number  whofe   morals   and 
mode  of   life    more    auftere   and  more  guarded    than  the 
generality,  attract  the  attention,  and  very  likely  the  cenfure 
of  the  public  :  All  the  reft  walk  in  the  fame  path.     I  fee 
clearly  that  every  one  comforts  himfelf  by  the  example  of 
his  neighbour  :  That  in  that  point,   children  fucceed  to  the 
falfe  fecurity  of  their  fathers  ;  that  none  live  innocent ; 
that  none  die  penitent  :  I  fee  it  ;  and  I  cry,  O  God  !   If 
thou  haft  not  deceived  us  ;  if  all  thou  haft  told  us  with  re- 
gard to  the  road  to  eternal  life,  fhall  be  fulfilled  to  a  point ; 
if  the  number  of  thofe  who  muft  perifh,  fhall  not  influence 
thee  to  abate  from  the  feverity  of  thy  laws,    what  will  be- 
come of  that  immenfe  multitude  of  creatures  which  every 
hour  difappears  from  the  face  of  the  earth  ?  Where  are  our 
friends,  our  relations  who  have  gone  before  us  ;  and  what 
is  their  lot  in  the  eternal  regions  of  death  ?  What  fhall  we 
ourfelves  be  one  day  ?  When  formerly  a  Prophet  complain- 
ed to  the  Lord,  that  all  Ifrael  had  forfaken  his  protection; 
He  replied,  that   [even  thoufand  ftill  remained,  who  had 
not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal  :  Behold  the  number  of  pure 
and  faithful  fouls  which  a  whole  kingdom  then  contained. 

But 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  57 

But  couldeft  thou  (till,  O  my  God  !  comfort  the  anguifli  of 
thy  fervants  to-day  by  the  fame  afTurance  ?  I  know  that 
thine  eye  difcerns  ftill  fome  upright  amongft  us  ;  that  the 
prieflhood  has  ilill  its  Phineas'  ;  the  magiftracy  its  Samu- 
els ;  the  fword  its  Jofhuas ;  the  Court  its  Daniels,  its 
Efthers,  and  its  Davids;  for  the  world  only  exifts  for  thy 
chofen  ;  and  all  would  perifh  were  the  number  accomplifh- 
ed  :  But  thofe  happy  remains  of  the  children  of  Ifrael  who 
ihall  inherit  falvation,  what  are  they,  compared  to  the 
grains  of  land  in  the  fea  ;  I  mean  to  that  number  of  Tinners 
who  combat  for  their  own  deflru&ion  ?  You  come  after  this, 
my  brethren,  to  enquire  if  it  be  true,  that  few  mall  be 
faved.  Thou  haft  faid  it,  O  my  God  !  and  confequently 
it  is  a  truth  which  will  endure  for  ever. 

But,  even  admitting  that  the  Almighty  had  not  fpoken 
thus,  I  would  wiih,  in  the  fecond  place,  to  review,  for  an 
inftant,  what  pafTes  among  men  :  The  laws  by  which  they 
are  governed  :  The  maxims  by  which  the  multitude  is  re- 
gulated :  This  is  the  fecond  caufe  of  the  paucity  of  the 
faved  ;  and,  properly  fpeaking,  is  only  a  developement  of 
the  firft  :  The  force  of  habit  and  cufloms. 

Part  II.  Few  people  are  faved,  becaufe  the  maxims 
mod  univerfally  received  in  all  countries,  and  upon  which 
depend,  in  general,  the  morals  of  the  multitude,  are  in- 
compatible with  falvation.  The  rules  laid  down,  approved, 
and  authorifed  by  the  world,  with  regard  to  the  application 
of  wealth,  the  love  of  glory,  Chriftian  moderation,  and 
the  duties  of  offices  and  conditions,  are  diametrically  op- 
pofite  to  thofe  of  the  Evangelifls  ;  and  confequently  can 
lead  only  to  death.  I  (hall  not,  at  prefent,  enter  into  a 
detail  too  extended  for  a  difcourfe,  and  too  little  ferious, 
perhaps,  for  Chriftians: 
Vol.  I.  H  I  need 


58  SERMON     II. 

I  need  not  tell  you,  that  it  is  an  eftablifhed  cuflom  in  the 
world,  to  allow  the  liberty  of  proportioning  expences  to 
rank  and  wealth ;  and  provided  it  is  a  patrimony  we  in- 
herit from  our  anceflors,  we  may  diflinguifh  ourfelves  by 
the  ufe  of  it,  without  reftraint  to  our  luxury,  or  without 
regard  in  our  profufion,  to  any  thing  but  our  pride  and 
caprice. 

But  Chriftian  moderation  has  its  rules  :  We  are  not  the 
abfolute  matters  of  our  riches ;  nor  are  we  entitled  to  abufe 
what  the  Almighty  has  beftowed  upon  us  for  better  pur- 
pofes  :  Above  all,  while  thoufands  of  unfortunate  wretches 
languifh  in  poverty,  whatever  we  make  ufe  of  beyond  the 
wants  and  neceffary  expences  of  our  flation,  is  an  inhu- 
manity to,  and  a  theft  from  the  poor.     Thefe  are  refine- 
ments of  devotion,  fay  they  ;  and  in  matters  of  expence 
and  profufion  nothing  is  exceflive  or  blameable,  according 
to  the  world,  but  what  may  tend  to  derange  the  fortune.    I 
need  not  tell  you,  that  it  is  an  approved  cuftom,  to  decide 
our  lots,  and  to  regulate  our  choice  of  profeffions  or  fitua- 
tions  in  life,  by  the  order  of  our  birth,  or  the  interefts  of 
fortune.     But,  O  my  God  '  does  the  miniflry  of  thy  gof- 
pel  derive  its   fource  from  the  worldly  confiderations  of  a 
carnal  birth  ?  We  cannot  eftablifh  all,  fays  the  world,  and 
it  would  be  melancholy  to  fee  perfons  of  rank  and  birth  in 
avocations  unworthy  of  their  dignity.     If  born  to  a  name 
diftinguifhed  in  the  world,  you  muft   get  forward  by  dint 
of  intrigue,  meannefs,  and  expence  :  Make  fortune  your 
idol.     That  ambition,  however  much   condemned   by  the 
laws  of  the  gofpel,  is  only  a  fentiment  worthy  your  name 
and  birth. 

You  are  of  a  fex  and  rank  which  introduce  you  to  the 
gaities  of  the  world :  You  cannot  but  do  as  others  do  : 

You 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  59 

You  rauft  frequent  all  the  public  places,  where  thofe  of 
your  age  and  rank  affemble  ;  enter  into  the  fame  pleafures  ; 
pafs  your  days  in  the  fame  frivolities  ;  and  expofe  yourfelf 
to  the  fame  dangers ;  thefe  are  the  received  maxims  ;  and 
you  are  not  made  to  reform  them  :  Such  is  the  doQrine 
of  the  world. 

Now  permit  me  to  afk  you  here ;  Who  confirms  you  in 
thefe  ways  ?  By  what  rules  are  they  juftified  to  your  mind  ? 
Who  authorifes  you  in  this  diffipation,  which  is  neither 
agreeable  to  the  title  you  have  received  by  baptifm,  nor 
perhaps  to  thofe  you  hold  from  your  anceftors  ?  Who  au- 
thorifes thofe  public  pleafures,  which  you  only  think  inno- 
cent, becaufe  your  foul,  already  too  familiarized  with  fin, 
feels  no  longer  the  dangerous  impreflions  or  tendency  of 
them  ?  Who  authorifes  you  to  lead  an  effeminate  and  fen- 
fual  life,  without  virtue,  fufferance,  or  any  religious  exer- 
cife  ?  To  live  like  a  ftranger  in  the  midft  of  your  own  fa- 
mily, difdaining  to  inform  yourfelf  with  regard  to  the  mo- 
rals of  thofe  dependent  upon  you  !  Through  an  affecled 
flate,  to  be  ignorant  whether  they  believe  in  the  fame 
God  ;  whether  they  fulfil  the  duties  of  the  religion  you 
profefs  ?  Who  authorifes  you  in  maxims  fo  little  Chriflian  ? 
Is  it  the  gofpel  of  Jefus  Chrift  ?  Is  it  the  doctrine  of  the 
Apoftles  and  faints  ?  For  furely  fome  rule  is  neceffary  to 
affure  us  that  we  are  in  fafety  :  What  is  yours  ?  Cuftom  : 
That  is  the  only  reply  you  can  make.  We  fee  none  around 
us,  but  what  conducl  themfelves  in  the  fame  way  and  by 
the  fame  rule.  Entering  into  the  world,  we  find  the  man- 
ners already  eftablifhed  :  Our  fathers  lived  thus,  and  from 
them  we  copy  our  cuftoms  :  The  wifeft  conform  to  them  : 
An  individual  cannot  be  wifer  than  the  whole  world,  and 
muft  not  pretend  to  make  himfelf  lingular,  by  .a&i.ng  con- 
trary 


6o  SERMON     II. 

trary  to  the  general  voice.  Such,  my  brethren,  are  your 
only  comforters  againft  all  the  terrors  of  religion  :  None 
acl  up  to  the  law.  The  public  example  is  the  only  guaran- 
tee of  our  morals.  We  never  reflecl,  that,  as  the  Holy 
Spirit  fays,  the  laws  of  the  people  are  vain  :  That  our  Sa- 
viour has  left  us  rules,  in  which  neither  times,  ages,  nor 
cuftoms,  can  ever  authorife  the  fmalleft  change  :  That  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  fhall  pafs  away ;  that  cufloms  and 
manners  mall  change  ;  but  that  the  Divine  laws  will  ever- 
laftingly  be  the  fame. 

We  content  ourfelves  with  looking  around  us :  We  do 
not  reflecl,  that  what  at  prefent  we  call  cuftom,  would,  in 
former  times,  before  the  morals  of  Chriftians  became  de- 
generated, have  been  regarded  as  monftrous  Angularities  ; 
and,  if  corruption  has  gained  fince  that  period,  the fe  vices-, 
though  they  have  loft  their  Angularity,  have  not  loft  their 
guilt.  We  do  not  reflecl,  that  we  fhall  be  judged  by  the 
gofpel,  and  not  by  cuftom  ;  by  the  examples  of  the  holy, 
and  not  by  mens  opinions  ;  that  the  habits,  which  are  only 
eftablifhed  among  believers  by  the  relaxation  of  faith,  are 
abufes  we  are  to  lament,  not  examples  we  are  to  follow  : 
That  in  changing  the  manners,  they  have  not  changed  our 
duties  :  that  the  common  and  general  example  which  au- 
thorifes  them,  only  proves  that  virtue  is  rare,  but  not  that 
profligacy  is  permitted  :  In  a  word,  that  piety  and  a  real 
Chriftian  life  are  too  unpalatable  to  our  depraved  nature, 
ever  to  be  praclifed  by  the  majority  of  men.  Come  now 
and  fay,  that  you  only  do  as  others  do  :  It  is  exaclly  by 
that  you  condemn  yourfelves.  What  !  the  moft  terrible 
certainty  of  your  condemnation,  fhall  become  the  only 
motive  for  your  confidence  !  Which,  according  to  the 
Scriptures,  is  the  road  that  conduces  to  death  ?  Is  it  not 

that 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  6l 

that  which  the  majority  purfues  ?  Which  is  the  party  of 
the  reprobate  ?  Is  it  not  the  multitude  ?  You  do  nothing 
but  what  others  do  :  But  thus,  in  the  time  of  Noah,  pe- 
rifhed  all  who  were  buried  under  the  waters  of  the  Deluge: 
All  who,  in  the  time  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  proifrated  thein- 
■felvcs  before  the  golden  calf  :  All  who,  in  the  time  of  Eli- 
jah, bowed  the  knee  to  Baal  :  All  who,  in  the  time  of 
Eleazar,  abandoned  the  law  of  their  fathers.  You  only  do 
what  others  do  ;  but  that  is  exactly  what  the  Scriptures  for- 
bid :  Do  not,  fay  they,  conform  yourfelves  to  this  corrupt- 
ed age  :  Now,  the  corrupted  age  means  not  the  fmall  num- 
ber of  jnfr,  whom  you  endeavour  not  to  imitate  ;  it  means 
the  multitude  whom  you  follow.  You  only  do  what  others 
do  :  You  will  consequently  experience  the  fame  lot.  Now, 
"  Mifery  to  thee,  (cried  formerly  St.  Auguitine,)  fatal  tor- 
«'  rent  of  human  cuftoms  ;  wilt  thou  never  fufpend  thy 
«'  courfe  ?  To  the  end  wilt  thou  drag  in  the  children  of 
"  Adam  to  thine  immenfe  and  terrible  abyfs  ?" 

In  place  of  faying  to  ourfelves,  "What  are  my  hopes  ? 
"  In  the  church  of  Jefus  Chrift  there  are  two  roads  ;  one 
*'  broad  and  open,  by  which  almoft  the  whole  world  pafi'es, 
*'  and  which  leads  to  death  ;  the  other  narrow,  where  few  in- 
"  deed  enter,  and  which  conduces  to  life  eternal  ;  In  which 
"  of  thefeam  I  ?  Are  my  morals  theiifualonesofperfbnsot 
"  my  rank,  age,  and  fituation  in  life  ?  Am  I  with  the  great 
'*  number  ?  Then  I  am  not  in  the  right  path  :  I  am  lofing 
"myfelf:  The  great  number  in  every  flation  is  not  the 
"  party  of  the  faved.''  Far  from  reafoning  in  this  man- 
ner, we  fay  to  ourfelves,  "  I  am  not  in  a  worfe  ftate  than 
"  others;  thofe  of  my  rank  and  age  live  as  I  do  :  Why 
*'  mould  I  not  live  like  them  ?"  Why,  my  dear  hearer  ? 
Por  that  very  reafon  :  The  general  mode  of  living  cannot. 

be 


62  SERMON     II. 

be  that  of  a  Chriftian  life  :  In  all  ages,  the  holy  have  been 
remarkable  and  fingular  men  :  Their  manners  were  al- 
ways different  from  thofe  of  the  world  ;  and  they  have  on- 
ly been  faints,  becaufe  their  lives  had  no  fimilarity  to 
thofe  of  the  reft  of  mankind.  In  the  time  of  Efdras,  in 
fpite  of  the  defence  againft  it,  the  cuftom  prevailed  of  in- 
termarrying with  flranger  women  :  This  abufe  became  ge- 
neral :  The  priefts  and  the  people  no  longer  made  any 
fcruple  of  it  :  But  what  did  this  holy  reftorer  of  the  law  ;  or 
did  he  follow  the  example  of  his  brethren  ?  Did  he  believe 
that  guilt,  in  becoming  general,  became  more  legitimate  ? 
No.  He  recalled  the  people  to  a  fenfe  of  the  abufe  :  He 
took  the  book  of  the  law  in  his  hand,  and  explaining  it  to 
the  affrighted  people,  corrected  the  cuftom  by  the  truth. 
Follow,  from  age  to  age,  the  hiftory  of  the  juft  ;  and  fee 
if  Lot  conformed  himfelf  to  the  habits  of  Sodom,  or  if 
nothing  diftinguifhed  him  from  the  other  inhabitants  :  If 
Abraham  lived  like  the  reft  of  his  age  :  If  Job  refembled 
the  other  princes  of  his  nation  :  If  Efther  conducled  her- 
felf.  in  the  court  of  Ahafuerus  like  the  other  women  of  that 
Prince :  If  many  widows  in  Ifrael  refembled  Judith  :  If, 
among  the  children  of  the  captivity,  it  is  not  faid  of  Tobias 
alone,  that  he  copied  not  the  conduct  of  his  brethren  ;  and 
that  he  even  fled  from  the  danger  of  their  commerce  and 
fociety.  See,  if  in  thofe  happy  ages,  when  Chriftians  were 
all  faints,  they  did  not  fhine  like  ftars  in  the  midft  of  the  cor- 
rupted nations  ;  and  if  they  ferved  not  as  a  fpe&acle  to  an- 
gels and  men,  by  the  fingularity  of  their  lives  and  man- 
ners :  If  the  Pagans  did  not  reproach  them  for  their  retire- 
ment, and  fhunning  of  all  public  theatres,  places,  and 
pleafures  :  If  they  did  not  complain  that  the  Chriftians  af- 
ie£ted  to  diftinguifh  themfelves  in  every  thing  from  their 
fellow-citizens ;  to  form  a  feparate  people  in  the  midft  of 

the 


ON  TH*  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  63 

the  people  ;  to  have  their  particular  laws  and  cufloms  ;  and 
if  a  man  from  their  fide  embraced  the  party  of  the  Chrif- 
tians,  they  did  not  confider  him  as  for  ever  loft  to  their 
pleafures,  afTemblies,  and  cufloms :  In  a  word,  fee,  if  in  all 
ages,  the  faints  whofe  lives  and  aftions  have  been  tranfmit- 
ted  down  to  us,  have  refembled  the  reft  of  mankind. 

You  will  perhaps  tell  us,  that  all  thefe  are  Angularities 
and  exceptions,  rather  than  rules  which  the  world  is  obliged 
to  follow  :  They  are  exceptions,  it  is  true ;  but  the  reafon 
is,  that  the  general  rule  is  to  throw  away  falvation  ;  that  a 
religious  and  pious  foul  in  the  midft  of  the  world,  is  al- 
ways a  Angularity  approaching  to  a  miracle.  The  whole 
world,  you  fay,  is  not  obliged  to  follow  thefe  examples  ; 
but  is  not  piety  the  general  duty  of  all  ?  To  be  faved,  mull 
we  not  be  holy  ?  Muft  heaven,  with  difficulty  and  fuffer- 
ance,  be  gained  by  fome  ;  while  with  eafe  by  others  ?  Have 
you  any  other  gofpel  to  follow  ;  other  duties  to  fulfil  ;  other 
promifes  to  hope  for,  than  thofe  of  the  Holy  Bible  ?  Ah  I 
Since  there  was  another  way  more  eafy  to  arrive  at  falva- 
tion, wherefore,  ye  pious  Chriftians,  who  at  this  moment 
enjoy  in  heaven,  that  kingdom,  gained  with  toil,  and  at 
the  expence  of  your  blood,  did  ye  leave  us  examples  10  dan- 
gerous and  ufelefs  ? 

Wherefore  have  ye  opened  for  us  a  road,  rugged,  dif- 
agreeable,  and  calculated  to  reprefs  our  ardour,  feeing 
there  was  another  you  could  have  pointed  out,  more  eafv, 
and  more  likely  to  attract  us,  by  facilitating  our  progrefs  ? 
Great  God  !  how  little  does  mankind  confult  reafon  in 
the  point  of  eternal  falvation  ! 

Will  you  confole  yourfelves  after  this  with  the  multitude, 
as  if  thegreatnefs  of  the  number  could  render  the  guilt  un- 

pujli  filed 


64  S  E  R  M  O  N     II. 

punifhed,  and  the  Almighty  durft  not  condemn  all  thofe 
who  live  like  you  ?  But  what  are  all  creatures  in  the  fight 
of  God  ?  Did  the  multitude  ot  the  guilty  prevent  him 
from  deftroying  all  flefh  at  the  Deluge  ?  From  making  fire 
from  heaven  defcend  upon  the  five  iniquitous  cities  ?  From 
burying  in  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea,  Pharaoh  and  all  his 
army?  From  (hiking  with  death  all  who  murmured  in 
the  defert  ?  Ah  !  The  kings  of  the  earth  may  have  regard  to 
the  number  of  the  guilty,  becaufethe  punifhment  becomes 
impoffible,  or  at  lead  dangerous,  when  the  fault  is  become 
general.  But  God,  who  wipes  the  impious,  fays  Job, 
from  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  as  one  wipes  the  duft 
from  off  a  garment;  God,  in  whofe  fight  all  people 
and  nations  are  as  if  they  were  not,  numbers  not  the  guil- 
ty :  He  has  regard  only  to  the  crimes  ;  and  all  that  the 
weak  and  miferable  finner  can  expect  from  his  unhappy 
accomplices,  is  to  have  them  as  companions  in  his  mifery. 
So  few  are  faved  ;  becaufe  the  maxims  mod  univerfally 
adopted,  are  maxims  of  fin  :  So  few  are  faved,  becaufe 
the  maxims  and  duties  mod  univerfally  unknown,  or  re- 
jected, are  thofe  molt  indifpenfable  to  falvation.  Laft  re- 
flection, which  is  indeed  nothing  more  than  the  proof, 
and  the  explanation  of  the  former  ones. 

What  are  the  engagements  of  the  holy  vocation  to  which 
we  have  all  been  called  ?  The  folemn  promifes  of  baptifm. 
What  have  we  promifed  at  baptifm  ?  To  renounce  the 
world,  the  devil,  and  the  flefh  :  Thefe  are  our  vows  :  This  is 
the  fituation  ot  the  Chriflian  :  Thefe  are  the  effential  con- 
ditions of  our  covenant  with  God,  by  which  eternal  life 
has  been  promifed  to  us.  Thefe  truths  appear  familiar, 
and  deftined  for  the  common  people  ;  but  it  is  a  miftake  : 
Nothing  can  be  more  fublime  ;  and  alas  !  nothing  is  more 
generally  unknown  :  It  is  at  the  court  of  kings,  and  to 

the 


ON  THE  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  65 

the  princes  of  the  earth,  that  without  ceafing  we  ought  to 
announce  them.  Alas  !  They  are  well  inflru&ed  in  all  the 
affairs  of  the  world,  while  the  firft  principles  of  Chriftian 
morality  are  frequently  more  unknown  to  them  than  to 
humble  and  fimple  hearts.  At  your  baptifm,  you  have 
then  renounced  the  world.  It  is  a  promife  you  have  made 
to  God,  before  the  holy  altar ;  the  Church  has  been  the 
guarantee  and  depofitory  of  it ;  and  you  have  only  been 
admitted  into  the  number  of  believers,  and  marked  with 
the  undefeafible  feal  of  falvation,  upon  the  faith  that  you 
have  fworn  to  the  Lord,  to  love  neither  the  world,  nor 
what  the  world  loves.  Had  you  then  anfwered  what  you 
now  repeat  every  day,  that  you  find  not  the  world  fo  black 
and  pernicious  as  we  fay;  that  after  all  it  may  innocently 
be  loved  ;  and  that  we  only  decry  it  fo  much,  becaufe  we 
do  not  know  it ;  and  fince  you  are  to  live  in  the  world, 
you  wifh  to  live  like  thofe  who  are  in  it :  Had  you  anfwer- 
ed thus,  the  Church  would  not  have  received  you  into  it* 
bofom  ;  would  not  have  connected  you  with  the  hope  of 
Chriftians,  nor  joined  you  in  communion  with  thofe  who 
liave  overcome  the  world  :  She  would  have  advifed  you  to 
go  and  live  with  thofe  infidels  who  know  notour  Saviour. 
For  this  reafon  it  was,  that,  in  former  ages,  thofe  of  the 
Catechumen,  who  could  not  prevail  upon  themfelves  to 
renounce  the  world  and  its  pleafures,  put  off  their  baptifm 
till  death;  and  durft  not  approach  the  holy  altar,  to  con- 
tract by  the  facrament,  which  regenerates  us,  engagements 
of  which  they  knew  the  importance  and  fanclity  ;  and  to 
fulfil  which,  they  felt  themfelves  ftill  unqualified.  You 
are  therefore  required,  by  the  mofl  facred  of  all  vows,  to 
hate  the  world ;  that  is  to  fay,  not  to  conform  yourfelves 
to  it  :  If  you  love  it,  if  you  follow  its  pleafures  and  cuf- 
toms,  you  arc  not  only,  as  St.  John  fays,  the  enemy  of 
Vol.  I.  I  "  God 


£6  SERMON    II, 

God,  but  you  likewife  renounce  the  faith  given  in  bap* 
tifm:  You  abjure  the  gofpel  of  Jefus  Chrift  :  You  are  an 
apoftate  from  religion,  and  trample  under  foot  the  niofl  fa- 
cred  and  irrevocable  vows  that  man  can  make.  Now, 
what  is  this  world  which  you  ought  to  hate  ?  I  have  only 
to  anfwer,  that  it  is  the  one  you  love  :  You  will  never 
miftake  it  by  this  mark :  This  world  is  a  fociety  of  Tin- 
ners ;  whofe  defires,  fears,  hopes,  cares,  projects,  joys, 
and  chagrins,  no  longer  turn  but  upon  the  fuccefTes  or 
misfortunes  of  this  life.  This  world  is  an  affemblage  of 
people,  who  look  upon  the  earth  as  their  country  ;  the 
time  to  come  as  an  exilement;  the  promifes  of  faith  as  a 
dream  ;  and  death  as  the  greateft  of  all  misfortunes.  This 
world  is  a  temporal  kingdom,  where  our  Saviour  is  un- 
known ;  where  thofe  acquainted  with  his  name  glorify  him 
not  as  their  Lord  ;  hate  his  maxims  ;  defpife  his  follow- 
ers ;  and  negle£l  or  infult  him  in  his  facraments  and  wor- 
fhip.  In  a  word,  to  give  a  proper  idea  at  once  of  this 
world,  it  is  the  great  number;  behold  the  world,  which 
you  ought  to  fhun,  hate,  and  combat  againft  by  your  ex- 
ample, 

Now  is  this  your  fituation  with  regard  to  the  world  ? 
Are  its  pleafures  a  fatigue  to  you  ;  do  its  excefTes  afflict 
you  ;  do  you  regret  the  length  of  your  pilgrimage  here  ? 
Are  not  its  laws  your  laws  ?  Its  maxims  your  maxims  ? 
What  it  condemns,  do  you  not  condemn  ?  Do  you  not 
approve  what  it  approves  ?  And  mould  it  happen,  that 
you  alone  were  left  upon  the  earth,  may  we  not  fay,  that 
the  corrupted  world  would  be  revived  in  you  ;  and  that 
you  would  leave  an  exa6l  model  of  it  to  your  pofterity  ? 
When  I  fay  you,  I  mean  and  addrefs  myfelf  to  almofl  all 
Eien, 

Where 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  6/ 

Where  are  tbofe  who  fincerely  renounce  the  pleafures, 
habits,  maxims,  and  hopes  of  this  world  ?  We  find  many 
who  complain  of  it ;  andaccufe  it  of  injuftice,  ingratitude 
and  caprice  ;  who  fpeak  warmly  of  its  abufes  and  errors  ; 
but  in  decrying,  they  continue  to  love,  to  follow  it  ;  they 
cannot  bring  themfelves  to  do  without  it ;  in  complaining 
of  its  injuftice,  they  are  only  piqued,  at  it,  they  are  not 
undeceived  ;  they  feel  its  hard  treatment,  but  they  are 
unacquainted  with  its  dangers  ;  they  cenfure,  but  where 
are  thofe  who  hate  it  ?  And  now,  my  brethren,  you  may 
judge,  if  many  can  have  a  claim  to  falvation. 

In  the  fecond  place,  you  have  renounced  the  flefh  at 
your  baptifm  ;  that  is  to  fay,  you  are  engaged  not  to  live 
according  to  the  fenfual  appetites  ;  to  regard  even  indo- 
lence and  effeminacy  as  crimes  ;  not  to  flatter  the  corrupt- 
ed defires  of  the  flefh  ;  but  to  chaftife,  crufh,  and  cruci- 
fy it.  This  is  not  an  acquired  perfeftion  ;  it  is  a  vow  ;  it 
is  the  firft  of  all  duties  ;  the  character  of  a  true  Chriftian, 
and  infeparable  from  faith.  In  a  word,  you  have  anathe- 
matized Satan  and  all  his  works  :  And  what  are  his  works  ? 
That  which  compofes  almofl  the  thread  and  end  of  your 
life  ;  pomp,  pleafure,  luxury,  and  diflipation  :  Lying,  of 
which  he  is  the  father  ;  pride,  of  which  he  is  the  model ; 
jealoufy  and  contention,  of  which  he  is  the  artifan :  But 
I  afk  you,  where  are  thofe  who  have  not  withdrawn  the 
anathema  they  had  pronounced  againft  Satan  ?  Now  conse- 
quently, (to  mention  it  as  we  go  along),  behold  many  of 
the  queftions  anfwered. 

You  continually  demand  of  us,  if  theatres  and  other 
public  places  of  amufement,  be  innocent  recreations  for 
Chriftians.     In  return,  I  have  only  one  queftion  to  afk 

you* 


63  6ERMON     II, 

you.  Arc  they  the  works  of  Satan,  or  of  Jefus  Chrift  ? 
for  there  can  be  no  medium  in  religion.  I  mean  not  to 
fay,  but  what  many  recreations  and  amufements  may  be 
termed  indifferent  :  But  the  moft  indifferent  pleafures 
which  religion  allows,  and  which  the  weaknefs  of  our 
nature  renders  even  neceffary,  belong  in  one  fenfe  to  Je* 
fus  Chrift,  by  the  facility  with  which  they  ought  to  enable 
us  to  apply  ourfelves  to  more  holy  and  more  ferious  duties. 
5Lvery  thing  we  do ;  every  thing  we  rejoice  or  weep  at,  ought 
to  be  of  fuch  a  nature,  as  to  have  a  connexion  with  Jefus 
Chrift,  and  to  be  done  for  his  glory.  Now,  upon  this 
principle,  the  moft  inconteftible,  and  moft  univerfally  al- 
lowed in  Chriftian  morality,  you  have  only  to  decide 
whether  you  can  connect  the  glory  of  Jefus  Chrift  with 
the  pleafures  of  a  theatre.  Can  our  Saviour  have  any 
part  in  fuch  a  fpecies  of  recreation  ?  And  before  you  enter 
them,  can  you,  with  confidence,  declare  to  him,  that  in 
fo  doing,  you  only  propofe  his  glory,  and  to  enjoy  the 
fatisfaclion  of  pleafing  him  ?  What  !  The  theatres,  fuch 
as  they  are  at  prefent,  ftill  more  criminal,  by  the  public 
licentioufnefs  of  thofe  unfortunate  creatures  who  mount 
them,  than  by  the  impure  and  paflionate  fcenes  they  repre- 
fent :  The  theatres  are  the  works  of  Jefus  Chrift  !  Jefus 
Chrift  would  animate  a  mouth,  from  whence  are  to  pro- 
ceed founds,  lafcivious,  and  intended  to  corrupt  the  heart  ? 
But  thefe  blafphemies  ftrike  me  with  horror.  Jefus  Chrift 
would  prefide  in  affemblies  of  fin,  where  every  thing  we 
hear  weakens  his  doctrines  ;  where  the  poifon  enters  into 
the  foul  by  all  the  fenfes  ;  where  every  art  is  employed  to 
infpire,  awaken,  and  juftify  the  paffions  he  condemns  ? 
Now,  fays  Tertullian.  if  they  are  not  the  works  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  they  muft  be  the  works  of  Satan  :  Every  Chrif» 
tian  ought,  therefore,  to  abftain  from  them  :  When  he  par- 
takes 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  69 

takes  of  them,  he  violates  the  vows  of  baptifm  :  Howe- 
ver innocent  he  may  flatter  himfelf  to  be,  in  bringing  from 
thefe  places  an  untainted  heart,  it  is  fullied  by  being  there  ; 
fince  by  his  prefence  alone  he  has  participated  in  the  works 
of  Satan,  which  he  had  renounced  at  baptifm,  and  violat- 
ed the  molt  facred  promifes  he  had  made  to  Jefus  Chrift 
and  to  his  Church. 

Thefe,  my  brethren,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  are  not 
merely  advices,  and  pious  arts  ;  they  are  the  moll  effential 
of  our  obligations  :  But  alas  !  who  fulfils  them  ?  who  even 
knows  them  ?  Ah  !  my  brethren,  did  you  know  how  far 
the  title  you  bear,  of  Chriftian,  engages  you  ;  could  you 
comprehend  the  fanctity  of  your  Hate  ;  the  hatred  of  the 
world,  of  yourfelf,  and  of  every  thing,  which  is  not  of 
God,  that  it  ordains  you  ;  that  life,  according  to  the  Gofpel, 
that  continual  watching,  that  guard  over  the  paflions  :  in 
a  word,  that  conformity  with  Jefus  Chrift  crucified,  which 
it  exa£h  of  you  :  could  you  comprehend  it  ;  could  you 
remember,  that  as  you  ought  to  love  God  with  all  your 
heart,  and  all  your  ftrengtb,  a  fingle  defire  that  has  not 
connexion  with  him  defiles  you,  you  would  appear  a  mon- 
ger in  your  own  fight.  How  !  would  you  fay  to  yourfelf, 
duties  fo  holy,  and  morals  fo  prophane  I  A  vigilance  fo 
continual,  and  a  life  fo  carelefs  and  diflipated  !  A  love  of 
God  fo  pure,  fo  complete,  fo  univerfal,  and  a  heart  the 
continual  prey  of  a  thoufand  impulfes,  either  foreign  or 
criminal :  If  thus  it  is,  who,  O  my  God  !  will  be  entitled 
to  falvation  ? 

Few  indeed,  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  hearer  :  at  leaft  it  will 
not  be  you,  (unlefs  a  change  takes  place,]  nor  thofc  who 
refcmble  you :  it  will  not  be  the  multitude.     Who  frail 

be 


JO  SERMON     n, 

be  faved  ?  thofe  who  work  their  falvation  with  fear  and 
trembling ;  who  live  in  the  midft  of  the  world,  but  noft 
like  the  world.  Who  fhall  be  faved?  that  Chriftian  wo- 
man, who  fhut  up  in  the  circle  of  her  domeftic  duties, 
rears  up  her  children  in  faith,  and  in  piety ;  divides  her 
heart  only  betwixt  her  Saviour  and  herhufband;  is  adorn- 
ed with  delicacy  and  modefty  ;  fits  not  down  in  the  aflem- 
blies  of  vanity  ;  makes  not  a  law  of  the  ridiculous  cuftoms 
of  the  world,  but  regulates  thefe  cuftoms  by  the  law  of 
God  ;  and  makes  virtue  appear  more  amiable,  by  her  rank 
and  example.  Who  fhall  be  faved  ?  That  believer,  who, 
in  the  relaxation  of  modern  times,  imitates  the  manners 
of  the  firft  Chriftiars ;  whofe  hands  are  clean,  and  his  heart 
pure  ;  watchful ;  "  who  hath  not  lift  up  his  foul  to  vani- 
ty ;"  but  who,  in  the  midft  of  the  dangers  of  the  great 
world,  continually  applies  himfelf  to  purify  it:  Juft, 
who  fwears  not  deceitfully  againft  his  neighbour,  nor  is 
indebted  to  fraudulent  ways  for  the  innocent  aggrandife- 
ment  of  his  fojtune  :  Generous,  who  with  benefits  repays 
the  enemy  who  fought  his  ruin  :  Sincere,  who  facrifices 
not  the  truth  to  a  vile  intereft,  and  knows  not  the  part  of 
rendering  himfelf  agreeable,  by  betraying  his  confcience: 
Charitable  who  makes  his  houfe  and  intereft  the  refuge  of 
his  fellow-creatures,  and  himfelf  the  confolation  of  the 
affli&ed  ;  regards  his  wealth  as  the  property  of  the  poor ; 
humble  in  affliftion,  chriftian  under  injuries,  and  peni- 
tent, even  in  profperity.  Who  will  merit  falvation  ?  You, 
my  dear  hearer,  if  you  will  follow  thefe  examples  ;  for 
fuch  are  the  fouls  to  be  faved.  Now  thefe  afTuredly  do 
not  form  the  greateft  number  :  while  you  continue,  there- 
fore to  live  like  the  multitude,  it  is  a  point  of  belief,  that 
you  cannot  pretend  to  falvation. 

Thefe, 


ON   THE  SMALL   NUMBER  OF   THE   SAVED,  7* 

Thefe,  my  brethren,  are  truths  which  fhould  make  ufe 
tremble  ;  nor  are  they  thofe  vague  ones  which  are  told  to 
all  men,  and  which  none  apply  to  themfelves  :  Perhaps 
.there  is  not  in  this  afTembly,  an  individual,  who  may  not 
fay  of  himfelf,  "  I  live  like  the  great  number  ;  like  thofe 
"  of"  my  rank,  age,  and  fituation  :  I  am  loft,  mould  I  die 
«'  in  this  path."  Now  can  any  thing  be  more  capable  of 
alarming  a  foul,  in  whom  fome  remains  of  care  for  his  fal- 
vation  ftill  exift  ?  It  is  the  multitude,  neverthelefs,  who 
tremble  not.  There  is  only  a  fmall  number  of  juft,  which. 
operates  apart,  its  falvation,  with  fear  and  trembling  :  All 
the  reft  are  tranquil.  After  having  lived  with  the  multi- 
tude, they  flatter  themfelves  they  (hall  be  particularifed  at 
death  ;  every  one  augurs  favourably  for  himfelf,  and  chi- 
merically  thinks  he  ihall  be  an  exception. 

On  this  account,  it  is,  my  brethren,  that  I  confine  my- 
felf  to  you,  who  at  prefent  are  afTembled  here  ;  I  include 
not  the  reft  of  men  ;  but  confider  you  as  alone  exifting  on 
the  earth.  The  idea,  which  occupies  and  frightens  me,  is 
this,  I  figure  to  myfelf  the  prefent,  as  your  lafl  hour,  and 
the  end  of  the  world  :  That  the  heavens  are  going  to  open 
above  your  heads  :  Our  Saviour  in  all  his  glory,  to  appear 
in  the  midft  of  this  temple  ;  and  that  you  are  only  afTem- 
bled here  to  wait  his  coming,  like  trembling  criminals,  on 
whom  the  fentence  is  to  be  pronounced,  either  of  life  eter- 
nal, or  of  everlafting  death  :  For  it  is  vain  to  flatter  your- 
felves,  that  you  mail  die  more  innocent  than  you  are  at 
this  hour  :  All  thofe  defires  of  change  with  which  you  are  < 
amufed,  will  continue  to  amufe  till  death  arrives  ;  the  ex- 
perience of  all  ages  proves  it ;  the  only  difference  you 
have  to  expert,  will  molt  likely  be  only  a  larger  balance 
againft  you  than  what  you  would  have  tQ  an  Twer  for  at 

prefect ; 


7*  SERMON     II. 

prefent :  And  from  what  would  be  your  deftiny,  were 
you  to  be  judged  this  moment,  you  may  almoft  decide 
upon  what  will  take  place  at  your  departure  from  life. 
Now  I  afk  you,  (and  connecting  my  own  lot  with  yours, 
I  afk  it  with  dread,)  were  Jefus  Chrift  to  appear  in  this 
temple,  in  the  midft  of  this  aflembly,  to  judge  us,  to  make 
the  dreadful  feparation  betwixt  the  goats  and  fheep,  do 
you  believe  that  the  greatefl  number  of  us  would  be  placed 
at  his  right  hand  ?  Do  you  believe  that  the  number  would 
at  leaft  be  equal  ?  Do  you  believe  there  would  even  be 
found  ten  upright  and  faithful  fervants  of  the  Lord,  when 
formerly  five  cities  could  not  furnifh  fo  many  ?  I  afk  you. 
You  know  not :  and  I  know  it  not.  Thou  alone,  O  my 
God  !  knoweft  who  belong  to  thee. 

But  if  we  know  not  who  belong  to  him,  at  leaft  we 
know  that  finners  do  not.  Now,  who  are  the  juft  and 
faithful,  aflembled  here  at  prefent  ?  Titles  and  dignities 
avail  nothing  :  You  are  ftripped  of  all  thefe  in  the  prefence 
of  your  Saviour  :  Who  are  they  ?  Many  finners,  who 
wilh  not  to  be  converted  ;  many  more  who  wifh,  but  al- 
ways put  it  off ;  many  others,  who  are  only  converted  in 
appearance,  and  again  fall  back  to  their  former  courfes  : 
In  a  word,  a  great  number,  who  flatter  themfelves  they 
have  no  occafion  for  converfion  :  This  is  the  party  of 
the  reprobate.  Ah  !  my  brethren,  cut  off  from  this  aflem- 
bly thefe  four  claffes  of  finners,  for  they  will  be  cut  off 
at  the  great  day  :  And  now  appear,  ye  juft  :  Where  are 
ye  ?  O  God  !  where  are  thy  chofen  ?  And  what  a  portion 
remains  to  thy  fhare  ! 

My  brethren,  our  ruin  is  almoft  certain  ;  yet  we  think 
not  of  it.     When  even  in  this  terrible  feparation,  which 

will 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF   THE  SAVED  73 

wiH  one  day  take  place,  there  mould  be  only  one  finner  in 
this  affembly,  on  the  fide  of  the  reprobate  ;  and  that  a 
voice  from  heaven  fhould  aiTure  us  of  it,  without  particu- 
krifing  him  :  Who  of  us  would  not  tremble,  leaft  he 
fhould  be  the  unfortunate  and  devoted  wretch  ?  Who  of 
us  would  not  immediately  apply  to  his  confcience,  to  ex- 
amine if  his  crimes  merited  not  this  punifhment  ?  Who  of 
us,  feized  with  dread,  would  not  demand  of  our  Saviour, 
as  the  Apoflles  formerly  did,  and  fay,  "  Lord,  is  it  I  ?" 
And  fhould  a  fmall  refpite  be  allowed  to  our  prayers,  who 
of  us  would  not  ufe  every  effort,  by  tears,  fupplications, 
and  fincere  repentance,  to  avert  the  misfortune  ?  Are  we  in 
our  fenfes,  my  dear  hearers  ?  Perhaps,  among  all  who  lift- 
en  to  me,  ten  juft  would  not  be  found  ;  perhaps  fewer: 
What  do  I  know,  O  my  God  !  I  dare  not  with  a  fixed  eye 
regard  the  depths  of  thy  judgments  and  thy  juftice.  More 
than  one  perhaps  would  not  be  found  amongft  us  all.  And 
this  danger  affefts  you  not,  my  dear  hearer  ?  You  perfuade 
yourfelf,  that  in  this  great  number  who  fhall  perifh,  you 
will  be  the  happy  individual  ;  you,  who  have  lefs  reafon 
perhaps  than  any  other  to  believe  it ;  you  upon  whom 
alone  the  fentence  of  death  mould  fall,  were  only  one  of" 
all  who  hear  me,  to  fuffer?  Great  God  J  How  little  are 
the  terrors  of  thy  law  known  to  the  world  !  In  all  ages, 
the  juft  have  fhuddered  with  dread,  in  reflecting  on  the  fe- 
verity  and  extent  of  thy  judgments  upon  the  deftinies  of 
men  :  Alas  !  What  do  they  prepare  for  the  children  of 
Adam! 

But  what  are  we  to  conclude  from  thefe  grand  truths  ? 
That  all  muft  defpair  of  falvation  ?  God  forbid  :  The  im- 
pious alone,  to  quiet  his  own  feelings  in  his  debaucheries, 
endeavours  to  perfuade  himfelf,  that  all  men  fhall  perifh  as 
well  as  he. 
Vol.  I.  K  Tins 


74  SERMON     II. 

This  idea  ought  not  to  be  the  fruit  of  the  prefent  dif- 
courfe.  It  is  meant  to  undeceive  you  with  regard  to  the 
general  error,  that  any  one  may  do  whatever  others  do  ;  to 
convince  you,  that  in  order  to  merit  falvation,  you  muft 
diflinguifh  yourfelves  from  the  reft  ;  in  the  midft  of  the 
world,  lead  a  life  to  the  glory  of  God,  and  refemble  not 
the  multitude. 

When  the  Jews  were  led  in  captivity  from  Judea  to  Ba- 
bylon, a  little  before  they  quitted  their  own  country,  the 
Prophet  Jeremiah,  whom  the  Lord  had  forbid  to  leave  Je- 
rufalem,  fpoke  thus  to  them  :  "  Children  of  Ifrael,  when 
"  you  fhall  arrive  at  Babylon,  you  will  behold  the  inhabi- 
"  tants  of  that  country,  who  carry  upon  their  moulders 
"  gods  of  filver  and  gold  :  All  the  people  will  proftrate 
"  themfelves,  and  adore  them.  But  you,  far  from  allowing 
"  yourfelves  by  thefe  examples,  to  be  led  to  impiety,  fay 
"  to  yourfelves  in  fecret,  It  is  thou,  O  Lord  !  whom  we 
"  ought  to  adore." 

Let  me  now  finifh,  by  addreffing  to  you  the  fame  words : 

At  your  departure  from  this  temple,  you  go  to  enter 
into  another  Babylon  :  You  go  to  fee  idols  of  gold  and  fil- 
ver, before  which  all  men  proftrate  themfelves :  You  go  to 
regain  the  vain  objects  of  human  paftions,  wealth,  glory, 
and  pleafure,  which  are  the  gods  oi  this  world,  and  which 
almoft  all  men  adore  :  You  will  fee  thofe  abufes,  which  all 
the  world  permits  ;  thofe  errors,  which  cuftom  authorifes  ; 
and  thofe  debaucheries,  which  an  infamous  fafhion  has  al- 
moft conftitutcd  as  laws.  Then,  my  dear  hearer,  if  you 
wiili  to  be  of  the  fmall  number  of  true  Ifraelites,  fay  in 
the  fecrecy  of  your  heart,  It  is  thou  alone,  O  my  God  ! 
whom  we  ought  to  adore.     I  wifti  not  to  have  connexion 

with 


ON  THE  SMALL  NUMBER  OF  THE  SAVED.  75 

with  a  people,  which  knows  thee  not :  I  will  have  no  other 
law  than  thy  holy  law  :  the  gods,  which  this  foolifh  mul- 
titude adores,  are  not  gods :  they  are  the  work  of 
the  hands  of  men  ;  they  will  perifh  with  them  :  Thou 
alone,  O  my  God  !  art  immortal ;  and  thou  alone  deferv- 
eft  to  be  adored.  The  cuiloms  of  Babylon  have  no  con- 
nection with  the  holy  laws  of  Jerufalem  :  I  will  continue 
to  worfhip  thee  with  that  fmall  number  of  the  children  of 
Abraham,  which  ftill  in  the  midfl  of  an  infidel  nation  com- 
pofes  thy  people  :  With  them,  I  will  turn  all  my  defires 
towards  the  Holy  Sion  :  The  fingularity  of  my  manners 
will  be  regarded  as  a  weaknefs  ;  but  blefled  weaknefs,  O 
my  God  !  which  will  give  me  ftrength  to  refill  the  torrent 
of  cuftoms,  and  the  fedu£lion  of  example  :  Thou  wilt  be 
my  God  in  the  midft  of  Babylon,  as  thou  wilt  one  day  be 
in  Jerufalem. 

Ah  !  The  time  of  the  captivity  will  at  laft  expire  :  Thou 
wilt  call  to  thy  remembrance,  Abraham  and  David  :  Thou/ 
wilt  deliver  thy  people  :  Thou  wilt  tranfport  us  to  the  holy 
city  :  Then  wilt  thou  alone  reign  over  Ifrael,  and  over 
the  nations  which  at  prefent  know  thee  not.  All  being 
deftroyed  ;  all  the  empires  and  fceptres  of  the  earth ;  all 
the  monuments  of  human  pride  annihilated  ;  and  thou 
alone  remaining  eternal,  we  then  fhall  know,  that  thou 
art  the  Lord  of  hofts,  and  the  only  God  to  be  adored. 

Behold  the  fruit  which  you  ought  to  reap  from  this  dif- 
courfe  ;  live  apart ;  think  without  ceafing,  that  the  great 
number  work  their  own  deftru&ion  :  Regard,  as  nothing, 
all  cuftoms  of  the  earth,  unlefs  authorifed  by  the  law  of 
God  :  and  remember,  that  holy  men  have  in  all  ages  been 
always  looked  upon  as  fmgular. 


j6  S  E  R  M  O  N     II. 

It  is  thus,  that  after  diflinguifhing  yourfelves  from  the 
finful  on  earth,  you  will  be  glorioufly  feparated  from  them 
in  eternity, 

Now  to  God  the  Father,  &c. 


SERMON 


SERMON  III. 

THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE. 


John  x.  31. 

Then  the  Jews  took  up  Jlones  again,  to  Jlone  him. 

Ajekold  then,  my  brethren,  the  marks  of  gratitude 
which  Jefus  Chrift  receives  from  men  ;  behold  the  confola- 
tions  which  Heaven  prepares  for  him  in  the  painful  exer- 
cife  of  his  miniftry.  There  he  is  treated  as  a  Samaritan, 
and  poffefled  by  the  devil  :  Here  they  take  up  flones  to 
itone  him.  It  is  thus  that  the  Son  of  God  has  patted  all  the 
time  of  his  mortal  life,  continually  expofed  to  the  moft  ob- 
flinate  contradiction,  finding  only  hearts  infenfible  to  his 
kindnefTes,  and  rebellious  to  the  truths  which  he  announced 
to  them,  yet  never  did  he  allow  the  fmalleft  fign  of  impa- 
tience, or  the  leaft  complaint  to  efcape  him. 

And  we,  my  brethren,  we,  his  members  and  his  difci- 
ples  ;  alas  !  the  fmalleft  difgufts,  the  fmalleft  contradictions 
we  experience  in  the  pra&ice  of  virtue,  revolt  our  delica- 
cy ;  from  the  moment  we  ceafe  to  reliiri  thofe  attraftions, 
that  fenfibility  which  foftens  every  thing  to  be  found  pain- 
ful in  duty,  there  is  nothing  but  complaint  and  murmurs  ; 
troubled,  difcouraged,  we  are  tempted  almoft  to  abandon 

God, 


78  SERMON     III. 

i 

God,  and  to  return  to  the  world,  as  a  more  agreeable  and 
commodious  mafter  :  In  a  word,  we  would  wifh  to  find  no- 
thing in  the  fervice  of  God,  but  pleafure  and  confolation. 

But  our  divine  Mafter,  in  calling  us  to  his  fervice,  has 
he  not  declared,  in  exprefs  terms,  that  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  only  to  be  gained  by  conqueft ;  and  that  none 
but  thofe  who  do  violence  upon  themfelves,  can  force  it  ? 
And  what  do  thefe  words  fignify  ?  Unlefs,  that  entering 
into  the  fervice  of  God,  we  are  not  to  promife  ourfelves, 
that  we  fhall  always  find  in  it  a  certain  fweetnefs,  a  certain 
relifh,  which  deprives  it  of  all  pain,  and  caufes  it  to  be 
loved  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  almoft  certain,  that  in  it  we 
fhall  experience  difgufts,  and  contradictions  which  willex- 
ercife  our  patience,  and  put  our  fidelity  to  frequent  trials  ; 
that  we  fhall  often  feel  the  weight  of  the  yoke,  without 
feeling  the  unction  of  grace,  which  renders  it  light  and 
eafy  ;  becaufe  piety  effentially  oppofes  the  gratification  of 
our  former  taft.es,  and  original  inclinations,  for  which,  we 
always  preferve  fome  unhappy  remains  of  tendernefs,  and 
which  we  cannot  mortify,  without  making  the  heart  fuffer  ; 
that  befides,  wc  fhall  have  to  undergo  the  eternal  caprices 
of  an  inconftant  and  volatile  heart,  fo  difficult  to  fix,  that 
without  reafon  or  foundation,  it  is  difgufted  in  a  moment 
with  what  it  formerly  loved  moft.  Behold,  my  brethren, 
what  we  ought  to  have  expected,  when  we  embraced  the 
caufeof  virtue:  Here,  it  is  the  time  of  combat  and  trials  ; 
peace  and  felicity  are  only  for  heaven;  but  notwithftand- 
ing  this,  I  fay,  that  it  is  unjuft  to  form  the  difagreeable 
circumftances  which  may  accompany  virtue  in  this  life, 
a  pretext  either  to  abandon  God  when  we  have  begun  to 
ferve  him  ;  or  to  be  afraid  to  ferve  him,  when  we  have  be- 
gun to  know  him, 

*  Behold 


the  Disgusts  accompanying  virtue.  79 

Behold  my  reafons  :  In  the  firft  place,  becaufe  difgufts 
are  inevitable  in  this  life  :  Secondly,  becaufe  thofe  ot  pi- 
ety are  not  fo  bitter  as  we  imagine  them  to  be  :  Thirdly, 
becaufe  they  are  lefs  fo  than  thofe  of  the  world  :  Fourthly, 
becaufe,  were  they  equally  fo,  they  yet  pofTefs  refources 
which  thofe  of  the  world  have  not.  Let  us  inveftigate 
thefe  edifying  truths,  and  implore  the  afliftance  of  divine 
grace  towards  their  proper  explanation. 

Reflection  I.  I  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  becaufe  difgufts 
are  inevitable  in  this  life.  Alas  !  We  complain,  that  the 
fervice  of  God  difgufts  us ;  but  fuch  is  the  condition  of  this 
miferable  life.  Man  born  fully  to  enjoy  God,  cannot  be 
happy  here  below,  where  he  never  but  imperfectly  poffefs 
him  ;  difgufts  are  a  neceflary  confequence  of  the  inquie- 
tude of  a  heart  which  is  out  of  its  place,  and  is  unable  to 
find  it  on  the  earth  ;  which  feeks  to  fix  itfelf,  but  cannot 
with  all  the  created  beings  which  furround  it  ;  which,  dif- 
gufted  with  every  thing  elfe,  attaches  itfelf  to  God ;  but  being 
unable  to  poffefs  him  as  fully  as  it  is  capable  of  doing,  feels 
always  that  fomething  is  wanting  to  its  happinefs ;  agitates 
itfelf,  in  order  to  attain  it,  but  can  never  completely  reach 
it  here  ;  finds  in  virtue  almoft  the  fame  void  and  the  fame 
difgufts  it  had  found  in  fin  ;  becaufe,  to  whatever  degree  of 
grace  it  may  may  be  exalted,  there  ftill  remains  much  to 
accomplifti  before  it  can  arrive  at  that  fulnefs  of  righteoufnefs 
and  love,  which  will  poffefs  our  whole  heart  ;  will  fill  all 
our  defires ;  extinguifh  all  our  paftions  ;  occupy  all  our 
thoughts  ;  and  which  we  can  never  find  but  in  heaven. 

Were  it  poffible  to  be  happy  in  this  world,  we  fhould 
undoubtedly  be  fo  in  ferving  God;  becaufe  grace  calms 
our  paftions  ;  moderates  our  defires,  confoles  our'  fuffer- 
ings,  and  gives  us  a  foretafte  of  that  perfect  happinefs  we 

expect 


So  SERMON     III. 

expeft ;  and  which  we  fhall  not  enjoy,  but  in  a  bleffed 
immortality.  Of  all  the  fituations  in  which  man  can  find 
himfelf  in  this  life,  that  of  righteoufnefs  undoubtedly 
brings  him  neareft  to  felicity ;  but  as  it  always  leaves  him 
in  the  path  which  conduces  to  it,  it  leaves  him  likewife  flill 
uneafy,  and  in  one  fenfe  miferable. 

We  are  therefore  unjuft  to  complain  of  the  difgufls 
which  accompany  virtue.  Did  the  world  make  its  follow- 
ers happy,  we  fhould  then  have  reafon  to  be  di Satisfied, 
at  not  being  fo  in  the  fervice  of  God  :  We  might  then  ac- 
cufe  him  of  ufing  his  fervants  ill ;  of  depriving  them  of 
an  happinefs  which  is  due  to  them  alone  ;  that  far  from  at- 
tracting, he  rejecls  them  ;  and  that  the  world  is  preferable 
to  him,  as  a  more  confolingand  faithful  mailer.  But  exa- 
mine all  ftations  ;  interrogate  all  finners ;  confult  in  rota- 
tion the  partizans  of  all  {he  different  pleafures  which  the 
world  promifes,  and  the  different  paffions  which  it  infpires  ; 
the  envious,  the  ambitious,  the  voluptuous,  the  indolent, 
the  revengeful  ;  none  are  happy  ;  each  complains  ;  no  one 
is  in  his  place;  every  condition  has  its  inconveniencies  ; 
and  forrows  are  attached  to  every  ftation  in  life  :  The 
world  is  the  habitation  of  the  difcontented  ;  and  the  dif- 
gufts which  accompany  virtue,  are  much  more  a  confe- 
quence  of  the  condition  of  this  mortal  life,  than  any  im- 
perfection in  virtue  itfelf. 

Befides,  the  Almighty  has  his  reafons  for  leaving  the 
moll  upright  fouls  below  in  a  ftate,  in  fome  refpefts,  al- 
ways violent  and  difagreeable  to  nature  :  By  that,  he 
wifhes  to  difguft  us  with  this  miferable  life ;  to  make  us 
long  for  our  deliverance,  and  for  that  immortal  country, 
where  nothing  fhall  more  be  wanting  to  our  happinefs. 

I  feel 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  8l 

I  feel  within  me  (fays  the  Apoftle)  a  fatal  law  in  oppofi- 
tion  to  the  law  of  God  ;  the  good  that  I  would,  I  do  not; 
but  the  evil  which  I  would  not,  that  I  do.  Now,  if  I  do 
that  I  would  not,  it  is  no  more  I  that  do  it,  but  fin  that 
dwelleth  in  me.  I  find  then  a  law,  that  when  I  would  do 
good,  evil  is  prefent  with  me.  For  I  delight  in  the  law  of 
God  after  the  inward  man  ;  but  I  fee  another  law  in  my  mem- 
bers, warring  again  ft  the  law  of  my  mind,  and  bringing  me 
into  captivity  to  the  law  of  fin  which  is  in  my  members.  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  fhall  deliver  me  from  the 
body  of  this  death  ?  Behold  the  moft  natural  effect  which 
the  difgufts  attached  to  virtue  ought  to  operate  in  a  Chrif- 
tian  heart :  Hatred  of  ourfelves  ;  contempt  of  the  prefent 
life  ;  a  defire  for  eternal  riches  ;  an  eager  anxiety  to  go  and 
enjoy  God,  and  to  be  delivered  from  all  the  miferies  infe- 
parable  from  this  mortal  life. 

Befides,  were  virtue  always  to  be  accompanied  with  fen- 
fible  confolations  ;  did  it  continually  form  for  man  an  hap- 
py and  tranquil  ftate  in  this  world,  it  would  become  a  tem- 
poral recompenfe ;  in  devoting  ourfelves  to  God,  we 
fhould  no  longer  feek  the  good  of  faith,  but  the  confola- 
tions of  felf-love ;  we  would  feek  ourfelves,  while  pre- 
tending to  feek  God  ;  we  would  propofe  to  ourfelves, 
in  virtue,  that  confcious  tranquillity,  in  which  it  places 
the  heart,  by  delivering  it  from  thofe  violent  and  reftlefs 
paffions  which  tear  it  continually,  rather  than  the  obferv- 
ance  of  the  rules  and  the  duties  which  the  law  of  God 
impofes  on  us.  The  Lord  would  then  have  only  mercena- 
ry and  interefted  worfhippers,  who  would  come,  not  to 
carry  his  yoke,  but  to  repofe  themfelves  under  the  fhadow 
of  his  voice  ;  workmen,  who  would  offer  themfelves  not 
fo  much  to  labour  in  his  vineyard,  and  fupport  the  fatigues 
Vol.  I.  L  V     »{ 


g2  SERMON    III* 

l 

of  the  day,  and  the  oppreflion  of  the  heat,  as  in  order  to  tafle 
in  tranquillity  the  fruits :  Servants,  who,  far  from  improv* 
ing  their  talent  for  the  benefit  of  their  mafter,  would  turn 
it  to  their  own  utility,  and  employ  it  only  for  their  own 
advantage. 

The  upright  live  by  faith  ;  now  faith  hopes,  but  enjoys 
not  in  this  world  ;  all  is  yet  to  come  for  Chriftians  ;  their 
country,  their  riches,  their  pleafures,  their  inheritance, 
their  kingdom ;  the  prefent  is  not  for  them.  Here,  it  is 
the  time  of  tribulation  and  affliction  ;  here,  it  is  a  place  of 
exile,  and  a  foreign  country,  where  tears  and  fighs  be- 
come the  only  confolation  of  the  faithful ;  it  is  unreafona- 
ble  to  expect  delights  in  a  place  where  every  thing  recals 
the  remembrance  of  our  miferies;  where  every  thing 
prefents  new  dangers  to  us ;  where  we  live  furrounded  by 
rocks ;  where  we  are  a  prey  to  a  thoufand  enemies  ;  where 
every  ftep  indangers  our  deftru&ion  ;  where  all  our  days 
are  marked  by  fome  new  infidelity  ;  where,  delivered  up 
to  ourfelves,  and  without  the  afliftance  of  heaven,  we  do 
nothing  but  evil ;  where  we  fpread  the  corruption  of  our 
heart  over  the  fmall  portion,  even  of  good,  which  grace 
enables  us  to  accomplish ;  it  is  unreafonable,  I  fay,  to 
feek  felicity  and  human  confolations  in  a  refidence  fo  me- 
lancholy and  difagreeable  to  the  children  of  God.  The 
days  of  our  mourning  and  fadnefs  are  in  this  world  ;  thofe 
of  peace  and  joy  will  come  afterwards :  If,  by  abandon, 
ing  God,  we  could  acquire  real  happinefs,  our  inconftancy 
would  feem  at  Ieaft  to  have  an  excufe;  but  as  I  have  al- 
ready faid,  the  world  has  its  difgufts  as  well  as  virtue ;  by 
changing  our  mafler,  we  only  change  our  puniihment ;  in 
diverfifying  our  paflions,  we  only  diverfify  our  forrows. 
The  world  has  more  fmiling  afpefts,  I  conlefs,  than  vir- 
tue; 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  83 

tue ;  but  everywhere  the  reality  fs  only  trouble  and  vex- 
ation of  fpirit ;  and  fince  cares  are  inevitable  in  this  life, 
and  we  mult  encounter  difgufts  either  on  the  part  of  the 
world  or  of  virtue,  can  we  balance  for  a  moment  ?  Is  it 
not  preferable  to  fuffer  meritorioufly  than  to  fuffer  in  vain  ; 
and  be  able  to  place  our  fufferings  only  amongft  the  num- 
ber of  our  crimes  ?  Firft  truth  :  Difgufts  are  inevitable  in 
this  life. 

.  Reflect.  II.  But  I  fay,  in  the  fecond  place,  that  thofc 
of  piety  are  not  fo  bitter  as  we  reprefent  them  to  ourfelves. 

For,  my  brethren,  although  we  agree  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  fuffers  violence ;  that  Jefus  Chrift  is  come, 
in  order  to  make  reparations  and  retrenchments  which 
coft  much  to  our  nature  ;  that  the  period  of  the 
prefent  life  is  the  time  of  the  birth  of  the  new  man, 
and  always  followed  by  pain  and  forrows ;  and  that 
in  order  to  reconcile  us  to  God,  we  mull  begin  by  wag. 
ing  a  cruel  war  againft  ourfelves  ;  yet  it  does  not  follow, 
that  the  lot  of  a  foul,  who  ferves  the  Lord,  is  to  be  pitied, 
and  that  the  difgufts  which  accompany  virtue  are  fo  bit- 
ter as  the  world  reprefents*  Virtue  has  only  the  prejudi- 
ces of  the  fenfes,  and  of  the  paflions  againft  it ;  it  has  no* 
thing  melancholy  but  the  firft  glance  ;  and  its  bitternefs  is 
not  fuch  as  to  render  it  a  condition  which  we  ought  to  fly 
from  as  infupportable  and  wretched. 

For,  in  the  firft  place,  we  are  fheltered  in  it  from  the 
difgufts  of  the  world  and  the  paflions  ;  and  were  virtue  to 
poffefs  only  the  fingle  advantage  of  placing  us  fafe  from 
the  tempefts  of  the  paflions;  from   phrenfies,  jealoufies, .;- 
fufpicions,  and  bitternefs  of  heart;  from  the  void  of  a 

worldly 


&fr  SIRMON     lit. 

worldly  life;  when,  by  turning  to  God,  we  fhould  gain 
only  our  freedom  from  the  yoke  of  the  world  ;  our  being 
placed  above  the  reach  of  its  hopes ;  of  its  revolutions, 
troubles,  and  eternal  changes ;  the  becoming  mafters  of 
our  own  hearts,  and  being  dependent  on  none  but  our- 
felves  ;  our  having  none  but  God  to  account  with  ;  our  no 
longer  fatiguing  ourfelves  in  vain,  by  running  after  phan- 
toms, which  continually  elude  our  grafp  ;  alas  !  T^he  lot 
of  a  juft  foul  would  always  be  worthy  of  envy  ;  whatever 
might  be  the  bitter  circumftances  accompanying  virtue, 
they  would  flill  be  a  thoufand  times  more  fupportable  than 
the  pleafures  of  the  world  ;  and  to  mourn  with  the  people 
of  God,  would  be  infinitely  preferable  to  participating  in 
the  infipid  and  childifh  pleafures  of  the  children  of  the 
age. 

Secondly,  If  virtue  does  not  protect  us  from  the  afflic- 
tions and  difgraces  inevitable  upon  this  earth,  it  at  leaft 
foftens  their  afperity  ;  it  makes  our  heart  fubmiffive  to 
God ;  it  makes  us  kifs  the  hand  which  is  raifed  up  againfl 
us ;  it  difcovers  in  the  blows  with  which  the  Lord  afflicls 
us,  either  a  cure  for  our  pafiions,  or  the  juft  punifhment 
of  our  crimes.  And  were  virtue  to  have  only  the  privi- 
lege of  diminifhing  our  griefs,  by  diminifhing  our  attach- 
ments ;  of  rendering  us  lefs  feeling  to  our  loffes,  by  gra- 
dually detaching  us  from  all  the  objects  which  we  may  one 
day  lofe ;  of  preparing  our  foul  for  affliclion,  by  keeping 
it  continually  fubmiflive  to  God;  were  virtue  to  poflefs 
this  confolation  alone  ;  alas  !  ought  we  to  lament  and  com- 
plain of  any  bitternefs  which  attend  it  ?  What  more  can 
be  defired  in  this  miferable  life,  where  almoft  all  our  days 
are  diftinguilhed  by  new  afflictions  and  adverfities  ;  where 
every  thing  efcapes  our  grafp  ;  where  our  relations,  friends 

and 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  85 

and  protectors,  are  every  moment  {hatched  from  us,  and 
continually  falling  around  us  ;  where  our  fortune  has  no 
fettlement,  but  changes  its  appearance  every  day  ;  alas  ! 
what  more  can  be  defired  than  a  fituation  which  confoles 
us  on  thefe  events  ;  fupports  us  in  thefe  florins ;  calms  us 
in  thefe  agitations  ;  and  which,  in  the  eternal  changes 
which  take  place  here  below,  leaves  us  at  leaft  always  the 
fame  ? 

Thirdly,  Thofe  reluctances  and  difgufts  which  revolt  us 
fo  ftrongly  againft  virtue,  in  reality  confift  only  in  repref- 
fing  the  paflions  which  render  us  unhappy,  and  are  the 
fource  of  all  our  pains ;  the)  are  remedies  a  little  grievous 
to  be  fure,  but  they  ferve  to  cure  evils  which  are  infinite- 
ly more  fo ;  it  is  a  conflraint  which  fatigues  us,  but 
which,  in  fatiguing,  delivers  us  from  a  flavery  which 
weighed  us  down  ;  it  is  a  bitternefs  which  mortifies  the 
paflions,  but  which  in  mortifying,  weakens  and  calms  them ; 
it  is  a  fword  which  pierces  the  heart  to  the  quick;  but 
which  makes  the  corrupted  and  defiled  matter  to  flow  out 
from  it ;  in  fo  much,  that  in  the  very  moment  of  the 
wound's  greateft  agony,  we  experience  the  comfort  and 
certainty  of  a  cure :  Thefe  are  maxims  which  revolt  our 
nature  and  inclinations ;  but  which,  in  revolting,  recal 
them  to  order  and  rule.  Thus,  the  bitternefs  and  the  thorns 
of  virtue  have  always  at  leaft  a  prefent  utility,  which  recom- 
penfes  their  harfhnefs  ;  in  difgufting,  they  purify  us ;  in  prob- 
ing, they  cure  us ;  in  paining,  they  calm  us.  Thefe  are  not 
like  the  difgufts  of  the  world,  of  which  nothing  remains  to  us, 
but  the  bitternefs  of  thofe  fatigues,  of  thofe  conftraints  which 
our  paflions  impofe  on  us  ;  and  whofe  only  fruit  is,  that  of 
augmenting  our  miferies,  by  fortifying  our  iniquitous  paf- 
iions :  thefe  are  not  the  worldly  violences  which  lead  to 

nothing; 


86  SERMON     III. 

nothing ;  are  of  no  value ;  and  frequently  ferve  only  to 
render  us  hateful  to  thofe  whom  we  would  wifli  to  pleafe; 
which  remove  to  a  greater  diftance  from  us,  the  favours 
we  wifh  to  merit  by  them;  which  always  leave  us  our 
hatreds,  our  defires,  our  uneafinefles',  and  our  pains : 
Thefe  are  violences  which  advance  the  work  of  our  fancti- 
fication,  which  by  degrees  deflroy  within  us  the  work  of 
fin ;  which  perfect,  which  adorn  us ;  which  add  every  day 
a  new  fplendour  to  our  foul,  a  new  folidity  to  our  virtues, 
a  new  force  to  our  faith,  a  new  facility  to  our  approaches 
towards  falvation,  a  new  firmnefs  to  our  good  defires,  and 
which  bear  long  with  them  the  fruit  that  rewards  and  con- 
foles  us. 

I  do  not  add,  that  the  fource  of  our  difgufh  is  in  our- 
felves  rather  than  in  virtue  ;  that  it  is  our  paffions  which 
give  birth  to  our  repugnances  ;  that  virtue  has  nothing  in 
itfelf  but  what  is  amiable ;  that  were  our  hearts  not  deprav- 
ed through  love  for  the  flefh,  we  would  find  nothing  fweet 
and  confoling  but  the  pleafures  of  innocence ;  that  we  are 
born  for  virtue  and  righteoufnefs ;  that  thefe  ought  to  be 
our  firft  inclinations,  as  they  are  our  firft  diftinction  ;  and 
if  we  find  different  difpofitions  within  us,  at  leaft  we  have 
not  virtue,  but  only  ourfelves  to  blame.  I  could  add,  that 
perhaps  it  is  the  peculiar  character  of  our  heart,  which 
fpreads  for  us  fo  much  bitternefs  through  the  detail  of  a 
Chriftian  life ;  that  being  born  perhaps  with  more  lively 
paffions,  and  a  heart  more  fenfible  to  the  world  and  to 
pleafure,  virtue  appears  more  melancholy  and  infuppprtable 
to  us ;  that  not  finding  in  the  fervice  of  God  the  fame  at- 
traction which  we  have  found  in  that  of  the  world,  our 
heart,  accuftomed  to  lively  and  animated  pleafures,  is  no 
longer  capable  of  reconciling  itfelf  to  the  expected  drea- 

rinefs 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANY INO  VIRTUE.  €7 

rinefs  of  a  Chriftiim  life  ;  that  the  endlefs  diflipation  in 
which  we  have  lived,  renders  the  uniformity  of  duties 
more  irkfome  to  us ;  the  agitation  of  parties  and  pleafures, 
retirement  more  difgufting ;  our  total  fubmiflion  to  the 
paflions,  prayer  more  painful ;  the  frivolous  maxims  with 
which  our  minds  are  occupied,  the  truths  of  faith  more 
infipid,  and  more  unknown ;  that  our  mind  being  filled 
with  only  vain  things  :  with  fabulous  reading,  if  nothing 
worfe  ;  with  chimerical  adventures,  and  theatrical  phan- 
toms, is  no  longer  capable  of  relifhing  any  thing  folid ; 
that  never  having  accuftomed  ourfelves  to  any  thing  feri- 
ous,  it  is  rare  that  the  ferioufnefs  of  piety  does  not  difguft 
us,  and  that  we  find  God  to  our  tafle,  if  I  dare  to  fpeak 
in  this  manner,  we  who  have  never  relifhed  any  thing  but 
the  world  and  its  vain  hopes.  This  being  the  cafe,  what 
happinefs  when  we  bring  back  to  virtue,  a  heart  yet  incor- 
rupted  by  the  world  !  What  happinefs  to  enter  into  the 
fervice  of  God,  with  happy  inclinations,  and  fome  re- 
mains of  our  original  innocence  !  When  we  begin  early 
to  knowthe  Lord  ;  when  we  return  to  him  in  that  firft  fea- 
fon  of  our  life,  when  the  world  has  not  yet  made  fuch 
profound  and  defperate  impreffions  ;  when  the  paflions  ftili 
in  their  growth,  bend  eafily  towards  good,  and  make  vir- 
tue, as  it  were,  a  natural  inclination  to  us !  What  happi- 
nefs when  we  have  been  able  to  put  an  early  check  upon 
our  heart ;  when  we  have  accuftomed  it  to  bear  the  yoke 
of  the  Lord  ;  and  when  we  have  arrefted,  almoft  in  their 
infancy,  paflions,  which  render  us  miferable  in  our  guilt, 
and  which  likewife  occafion  all  the  bitternefs  of  our  vir- 
tues !  How  many  uneafinefles,  how  many  pangs  does  it 
prevent !  How  many  confolations  does  it  prepare !  How- 
many  comforts  fpread  through  the  reft  of  life  !  and  what  a 
difference  for  the  eafe  and  tranquillity  of  our  future  years, 

betwixt 


88  sermon   nr. 

betwixt  days  whofe  primitive  ones  have  been  pure,  and 
thofe  which,  infe&ed  in  their  fource,  have  felt  flow  from 
thence  a  fatal  bitternefs  which  has  blafted  all  their  joys, 
and  fpread  itfelf  through  all  the  remainder  of  their  career  ! 
It  is  ourfelves  alone,  fays  a  holy  Father,  who  render  vir- 
tue difagreeable  ;  and  we  are  wrong  to  complain  of  an  evil, 
in  which  we  have  fuch  a  fhare  ourfelves,  or  to  attribute 
faults  to  virtue,  which  are  our  own  handy-work. 

But  granting  thefe  reflections  to  have  even  lefs  folidity  ; 
were  it  even  true,  that  we  are  not  the  firft  and  original 
caufe  of  our  difgufts  at  virtue  ;  it  is  at  leafl:  inconteftible, 
that  the  longer  we  defer  our  return  to  God,  the  more  in- 
vincible do  we  render  that  diftafte  which  feparates  us  from 
him  ;  that  the  more  we  fhrink  and  draw  back,  the  more 
do  we  fortify  that  repugnance  within  us  to  virtue  ;  that  if 
the  Christian  life  offers  at  prefent  only  melancholy  and  te- 
dious duties,  they  will  appear  more  infupportable  in  pro- 
portion as  we  grow  old  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  in  the 
tafte  for  its  iniquitous  pleafures.  Could  the  delay  of  our 
converfion  fweeten  the  bitter  and  painful  portion  of  vir- 
tue, by  holding  out  a  little  longer  againft  grace,  could  we 
obtain  a  more  favourable  compofition,  as  I  may  fay,  and  as 
an  article  of  it,  flipulate,  that  piety  ftiould  afterwards  be 
prefented  to  us  with  more  charms  and  graces,  and  with 
conditions  more  agreeable  and  flattering :  alas  !  whatever 
rifks  we  may  run  by  deferring  it,  the  hopes  of  foftening 
our  pains  and  fufferings  might  ferve  in  fome  meafure  to 
excufe  our  delays.  But  delay  only  prepares  new  forrows 
for  us  ;  the  more  we  accuftom  our  heart  to  the  world,  the 
more  do  we  render  it  unfit  for  virtue  :  It  is  no  longer,  fays 
the  Prophet,  but  a  polluted  vafe,  to  which  the  paflions  we 
have  allowed  to  fettle    in  it,  have  communicated  a  tafte 

and 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  89 

and  fmell  of  death,  which  generally  laft  the  remainder  of.' 
life.     Thus,    my  brethren,    when  after  a  long  courfe  of 
crimes,  and  deeply-rooted  paflions,  we  muft  return  to  God, 
what  obftacles  do  not  thefe  frightful  difpofitions  prefent  ! 
What  infenfibility  towards  good  do  we  not  find  within  our- 
Felves  !  Thofe  hearts,  which  the  world  has  always  engrofT- 
ed,  and  who  afterwards  wifli  to  confecrate  to  God  the  re- 
mains of  a  life  entirely  mundane  ;  what  a  buckler  of  brafs, 
fays  a  Prophet,  do  they  not  oppofe  to  grace  !  What  hard- 
nefs  of   heart  to  the  holy   confolations  of    virtue  !  They 
may  find  it  juft  ;  but  it  is  impoflible,  they  fay,  to  find  it  amia- 
ble :  They  may  return  to  God  ;  but  they  enjoy  him  no  more  t 
They  may  nourifh  themfeives  with  the  truth  ,  but  it  is  no 
more  for  them  but  the  bread  of  tribulation  and  bitternefs : 
They  may   feek  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the  treafure  of 
the  gofpel ;  but  it  is  like  unfortunate  (laves,  condemned  to 
fearch  for  gold  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  wade  their 
ftrength  againlt  the  oppofing  rocks :  They  may  draw  for 
water  from  the  wells  of  Jacob  ;  but  they  can  only  reap  the 
toil ;  they  can  never  partake  of  thofe  comforts  and  confo- 
lations which  bear  peace  and  refrefhment  to  the  foul :  They 
wifh  to  draw  near  to  God,  yet  every  thing  feparates  them 
from  him  ;  they  wifh  to  fly  from  the  world,   yet  wherever 
they  go,  there  they   carry  it   with  them   in    their  heart  : 
They  feek  the  fociety   of   virtuous  people,   yet   in  their 
company  they  find  a  wearinefs,  and  a  melancholy  ftiffnefs, 
which  difgufts  them  with  piety  itfelf  :  They   apply  them- 
feives to  holv  books ;  and  alas !   it  is  only  a  tirefome  and 
fatiguing    decency    which    fupports     their    patience.      It 
appears,  that  in  virtue,  they  acl:  a  borrowed   character,  fo 
little  does  it  become  them,  and  fo  much  does  their  part 
conftrain  and  tire  them  :  and  although,  in  reality,  they  feek 
falvalion,  yet  there  appears  a  fomething  fo  foreign  and  con- 
ftrained  in  their  efforts,  that  we  believe  they  only  a  Hume 
Vol.  I.  M  the 


go  SERMON     III. 

the  femblance  of  it;  and  that  feeling  themfelves  not  born 
for  virtue,  they  wi(h  at  leaft  to  give  themfelves  the  appear- 
ances of  it. 

Difgufts  and  wearinefTes  mould  not,  therefore,  drive  us 
from  virtue  ;  flnce,  in  proportion  as  we  retire  from  it,  they 
become  every  day  more  violent  and  infupportable.  But 
candidly,  my  brethren,  is  it  for  us  to  reproach  to  God, 
that  we  weary  in  his  fervice  ?  Ah  !  Did  our  flaves  and  do- 
meftics  make  us  the  fame  reproach  ;  had  they  to  lament  the 
wearinefs  they  experience  in  our  fervice,  they  would  cer- 
tainly be  entitled  to  complain^of  it :  Our  eternal  humours, 
from  which  they  fuffer  fo  much  ;  our  fancies  and  caprices, 
to  which  they  mull  accommodate  themfelves ;  our  hours 
and  moments,  to  which  they  mull  fubjeft  themfelves  ;  our 
pleafures  and  taftes,  to  which  they  mult  facrifice  their  reft 
and  liberty  ;  our  indolence,  which  alone  cofts  them  fo 
much  ;  makes  them  endure  fo  much  wearinefs  ;  pafs  fo 
many  melancholy  moments,  without  our  even  deigning  to 
obferve  it;  they  undoubtedly  would  be  entitled  to  com- 
plain of  their  cruel  fituation  and  fufferings. 

Neverthelefs,  mould  they  venture  to  fay,  that  they  wea- 
ry in  our  fervice ;  that  they  reap  not  the  fmallefl  fatisfac- 
tion  from  it ;  that  they  feel  no  inclination  for  us,  and  that 
every  fervice  they  perform,  is  difgufting  to  a  degree  fcarce- 
Ty  fupportable  :  Alas !  We  would  regard  them  as  fools ; 
we  would  find  them  too  happy  in  having  to  fupport  our 
humours  and  caprices  ;  we  would  think  them  fufficiently 
honoured,  by  being  permitted  to  be  near  us ;  and  fully  re- 
compenfed  for  all  their  fatigues.  Ah,  my  brethren  !  And 
God,  does  he  not  fufficiently  recompenfe  thofe  who  ferve 
him,  that  they  mould  fupport  any  little  difgufts  or  wearinefTes 
which  may  be  found  in  his  fervice  ?  Are  we  not  ftill  too 

happy* 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  91 

happy,  by  this  acceptance  of  our  fervices,  in  fpite  of  the 
repugnances  which  render  them  cold  and  languid  ?  Does 
he  not  fufficiently  load  us  with  bleflings,  to  be  entitled  to 
exacl:  our  fufferance  of  a  few  (light  forrows  for  his  fake  ? 
Does  he  not  promife  us  (till  more,  fufficiently  precious  to 
fweeten  the  trifling  difgufts  attached  to  the  fulfilment  of  his 
ordinances  ?  Muft  not  he  find  it  ftrange,  that  vile  crea- 
tures, who  hold  all  for  him,  who  exift  only  through  him, 
and  who  expecl  all  from  him,  mould  complain  of  diilike 
to  his  fervice  ?  That  worms  of  the  earth,  whofe  only  boaft 
is  the  honour  of  belonging  to  him,  dare  complain  of  feel- 
ing no  inclination  for  him,  and  that  it  is  both  melancholy 
and  wearifome  to  ferve  or  to  be  faithful  to  him  ?  Is  he  then 
a  mafter  like  us ;  fanciful,  intolerant,  indolent,  entirely 
occupied  with  himfelf,  and  who  feeks  only  to  render  him- 
felf  happy,  at  the  expence  and  comfort  of  thofe  who  ferve 
him  ?  Unjuft  that  we  are  !  We  dare  offer  reproaches  to  the 
Almighty,  which  we  would  regard  as  outrages  upon  our- 
felves,  from  the  mouths  of  our  (laves  ! 

Second  Truth  :  The  difgufts  which  accompany  virtue 
are  not  fo  bitter  as  we  reprefent  them  to  ourfelves. 

Reflect.  III.  But  even  were  they  fo,  I  have  faid,  in 
the  third  place,  that  they  would  ftill  be  infinitely  lefs  than 
thofe  of  the  world  :  And  it  is  here,  my  brethren,  that  the 
teftimony  of  the  world  itfelf,  and  the  felf-expeiience  of 
worldly  fouls,  anfwer  every  purpofe  of  a  proof.  For  if 
you  continue  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  of  the  paffions, 
what  is  your  whole  life  but  a  continual  wearinefs,  where, 
by  diverfifying  your  pleafures,  you  only  diverfify  your 
difgufts  and  uneafmefTes  ?  What  is  it  but  an  eternal  void, 
where  you  are  a  burden  to  yourfelf  ?  What  is  it  but  a  pom- 
pous circulation  of  duties,  attentions,  ceremonies,  amufe- 

ments, 


$2  SERMON     IU. 

merits,  and  trifles,  which  incefTantly  revolving,  poflefs  one 
fingle  advantage,  that  of  unpleafantly  filling  up  moments 
which  hang  heavy  upon  you,  and  which  you  know  not  oth- 
erwife  to  employ  ?  What  is  your  life  but  a  flux  and  reflux 
of  defires,  hatreds,  chagrins,  jealoufies,  and  hopes,  which 
poifon  all  your  pleafures,  and  are  the  caufethat,  furround- 
ed  by  every  thing  which  ought  to  enfure  your  happinefs, 
you  cannot  fucceed  in  being  contented  with  yourfelves  ? 

What  comparifon  is  there  betwixt  the  phrenfies  of  the 
paflions,  the  chagrin  of  a  ftriking  neglecl,  the  fenfibility  of 
a  bad  office,  and  the  flight  forrows  of  virtue  ?  What  com- 
parifon betwixt  the  unlimited  fubje&ions  to  ambition  ;  the 
fatigues  and  toils  of  pretenfions  and  expe&ancies  ;  the 
pains  to  enfure  fuccefs  ;  the  exertions  and  fubmifTions  ne- 
ceflary  to  pleafe ;  the  cares,  uneafinefles,  and  agitations, 
in  order  to  exalt  ourfelves  ;  and  the  flight  violences  which 
allure  to  us  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  What  comparifon 
betwixt  the  frightful  remorfes  of  the  confeience,  that  in- 
ternal worm,  which  incefTantly  gnaws  us  ;  that  fadnefs  of 
guilt,  which  undermines  and  brings  us  low  indeed  ;  that 
weight  of  iniquity,  which  overwhelms  us ;  that  internal 
fword,  which  pierces  us  to  the  quick;  which  we  know 
not  how  to  draw  forth,  and  carry  with  us  wherever  we  go  ; 
and  the  amiable  forrow  of  the  penitence  which  opperates 
falvation  ?  My  God,  can  we  complain  of  thee,  after  know- 
ing the  world  ;  Can  thy  yoke  appear  grievous,  after  quit- 
ing  that  of  the  paflions  ?  And  the  thorns  of  thy  crofs,  are 
they  not  flowers,  when  compared  to  thofe  which  the  ways 
of  iniquity  and  the  world  have  fown  ? 

Thus  every  day  we  hear  the  worfhippers  of  the  world 
decry  the  world  they  ferve  ;  complain  with  the  utmoft 
diiTatisfaclion   of  their  lot  ;    utter  the   kceneft  inve£lives 

againf* 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  93 

againft  its  injuftice  and  abufes  ;  cenfure,  condemn,  and 
defpife  it ;  but  find  me  if  you  can  any  truly  pious  fouls, 
who  fend  forth  inve&ives  againft  virtue  ;  who  condemn 
or  defpife  it ;  and  who  deteft  their  lot  of  being  embarked 
in  a  voyage,  fo  full  of  chagrin  and  bitternefs.  The 
world  itfelf  continually  envies  the  deftiny  of  the  virtuous, 
and  acknowledges  that  none  are  happy  but  the  upright ; 
but  find  me  a  truly  pious  foul,  who  envies  the  deftiny  or 
the  world  ;  who  publifhes,  that  none  are  happy  but  its  par- 
tifans  ;  who  admires  the  wifdom  of  their  choice,  and  re- 
gards his  own  condition  as  the  moft  miferable  and  the  moft 
ioolifh  :  What  fhall  I  fay  ?  We  have  frequently  feen  tin- 
ners, who,  through  defpair  and  difguft  at  the  world,  have 
fled  to  the  oppofite  extremes  ;  lofe  reft,  health,  reafon, 
and  life  ;  fall  into  ftates  of  horror,  and  the  blackeft  melan- 
choly, and  no  longer  regard  life  but  as  the  greateft  torment. 
But  where  are  the  righteous,  whom  the  difgufts  which  ac- 
company virtue  have  thrown  into  fuch  dreadful  extremi- 
ties ?  They  fometimes  complain  of  their  forrows  ;  but 
they  ftill  prefer  them  to  the  pleafures  of  the  pafiions :  Vir- 
tue, it  is  true,  may  fometimes  appear  melancholy  and  un- 
pleafing  to  them ;  but  with  all  her  fadnefs,  they  love  her 
much  more  than  guilt ;  They  would  wifh  a  few  more  fen- 
fible  fupports  and  confolations  from  the  Father  of  Mercies  ; 
but  they  deteft  thofe  of  the  world :  They  fufTer ;  but  the 
fame  hand  which  proves,  fupports  them ;  and  they  are 
not  tempted  beyond  their  ftrength  :  They  feel  what  you 
call  the  weight  of  the  yoke  of  Jefus  Chrift ;  but  in  recall- 
ing the  load  of  iniquity,  under  which  they  had  fo  long 
groaned,  they  find  their  prefent  lot  happy,  and  the  com- 
parifon  calms  and  comforts  them. 

In  efFecl,  my  brethren,  in  the  firft  place,  the  violences 
which  we  do  to  ourfelves,  are  much  more  agreeable  than 

thofe 


94  SERMON     III. 

thofe  which  come  from  without,  and  happen  in  fpite  of  us. 
Now  the  violences  of  virtue,  are  at  leaft  voluntary  :  Thefe 
are  crofTes  which  we  choofe  from  reafon,  and  impofe  up- 
on ourfelves  from  duty  :  they  are  often  bitter,  but  we  arc 
confoled  by  the  reflection  of  having  chofen  them.  But  the 
difgufts  of  the  world  are  forced  crofTes,  which  come  with- 
out our  being  confulted  t  It  is  a  hateful  yoke,  which  is 
impofed  on  us  againft  our  will  :  We  wifli  it  not :  we  de- 
teft  it  ;  yet  neverthelefs  we  muff  drink  all  the  bitternefs  of 
the  cup.  In  virtue,  we  only  fuflfer,  becaufe  it  is  our  in- 
clination to  fufTcr  :  In  the  world,  we  fuffer  fo  much  the 
more,  in  proportion  as  we  wifh  it  lefs,  and  as  our  inclina- 
tions are  inimical  to  our  fufferings; 

Secondly,  The  difgufts  accompanying  virtue  are  a  bur- 
den only  to  indolence  and  lazinefs  ;  thefe  are  repugnan- 
ces, bitter  only  to  the  fenfes  :  But  the  difgufts  of  the 
world  ;  ah  !  they  pierce  to  the  quick  ;  they  mortify  all  the 
paflions  ;  they  humble  pride ;  pull  down  vanity  ;  light  up 
envy  ;  mortify  ambition,  and  none  of  our  feelings  efcape 
the  influence  of  their  fadnefs  and  bitternefs. 

Thirdly,  thofe  of  virtue  are  fenfible  only  in  their  firft 
operation  :  The  firft  efforts  coft  us  much  ;  the  fequel  foft- 
ens  and  tranquillizes  them  ;  the  paflions,  which  are  general- 
ly the  occafion  of  any  difguft  at  virtue,  have  this  in  parti- 
cular, that  the  more  we  reprefs  them,  the  more  traftable 
they  become  ;  the  violences  we  do  to  them,  gradually  calm 
the  heart,  and  leave  us  lefs  to  fuffer  from  thofe  to  come  ; 
but  the  difgufts  of  the  world  are  always  new  ;  as  they  al- 
ways find  in  us  the  fame  paflions,  they  always  leave  us  the 
fame  bitternefles ;  thofe  which  have  gone  before,  only  ren- 
der thofe  that  follow  more  infupportable. 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  ££ 

In  a  word,  the  difgufts  of  the  world  inflame  our  paflions, 
and  confequently  increafe  our  fufferings  ;  thofe  of  virtue 
reprefs  them,  and  by  thefe  means  gradually  eftablifh  peace 
and  tranquillity  in  our  foul. 

Fourthly,  The  difgufts  of  the  world  happen  to  thofe 
who  moll  faithfully  ferve  it :  It  does  not  treat  them  better, 
becaufe  they  are  more  devoted  to  its  party,  and  more  zeal- 
ous for  its  abufes;  on  the  contrary,  the  hearts  mod  ardent 
for  the  world,  are  almoft  always  thofe  who  experience  the 
largeft  fhare  of  its  mortifications  ;  becaufe  they  feel  more 
fenfibly  its  neglect  and  injuftice  :  Their  adour  for  it,  is  the 
fource  of  all  their  uneafinefTes.  But  with  God,  we  have 
only  our  coldnefs  to  dread  ;  for  the  difgufts  which  may 
accompany  virtue,  in  general,  have  only  relaxation  and 
idlenefs  for  principle ;  the  more  our  ardour  for  the 
Lord  increafes,  the  more  do  our  difgufts  diminifh  ;  the 
more  our  zeal  inflames,  the  more  do  our  repugnan- 
ces weaken;  the  more  we  ferve  him  with  fidelity,  the 
more  charms  and  confolations  do  we  find  in  his  fervice  ; 
It  is  by  relaxing,  that  we  render  our  duties  difagreeable ; 
it  is  by  leflening  our  fervour,  that  we  add  anew  weight  to 
our  yoke ;  and  if  in  fpite  of  our  fidelity,  the  difgufts  con- 
tinue, they  are  then  trials,  and  not  punifhments ;  it  is  not 
that  confolations  are  refufed,  it  is  a  new  occafion  of  merit 
which  is  prepared  for  us ;  it  is  not  an  irritated  God,  who 
fhuts  his  heart  to  us ;  it  is  a  merciful  God,  who  puri- 
fies our  own  ;  it  is  not  a  difcontented  mafter,  who  fuf- 
pends  his  favours ;  it  is  a  jealous  Lord,  who  willies  to 
prove  our  love ;  our  homages  are  not  reje£led ;  our 
fubmiflions  and  fervices  are  only  anticipated  ;  it  is  not 
meant  to  repulfe,  but  to  aflure  to  us  the  price  of  our  fuf- 
ferings, by  rejecting  every  thing  which  might  ftill  mingle 
the  man  with  God  :  ourfelves  with  grace;  human  fupports 

with 


g6  SERMON     III. 

with  the  gifts  of  Heaven  ;  and  the  riches  of  faith  with  the 
confolations  of  felf  love.  Behold,  my  brethren,  the  laft 
truth,  with  which  I  (hall  terminate  this  difcourfe  :  Not  on* 
ly  the  difgufts  accompany  virtue,  are  not  fo  bitter  as  thofe 
of  the  world,  but  they  likewife  poflefs  refources  which 
thofe  of  the  world  have  not. 

Reflect.  IV.  I  fay  refources :  alas !  my  brethren,  we 
find  none  but  in  virtue.  The  world  wounds  the  heart ; 
but  it  furnifhes  no  remedies :  It  has  its  chagrins,  but  noth- 
ing to  comfort  them  :  It  is  full  of  difgufts  and  bitternefs, 
but  we  find  no  refources  in  it.  But  in  virtue,  there  is  no 
forrow  which  has  not  its  confolation  ;  and  if  in  it  we  find 
repugnances  and  difgufts,  we  find  likewife  a  thoufand  re- 
fources which  foothe  them. 

In  the  firft  place,  Peace  of  heart,  and  the  teflimony  of 
the  confeience.  What  luxury,  to  be  at  peace  with  our- 
felves  ;  no  longer  to  carry  within  us  that  importunate  and 
corroding  worm,  which  purfued  us  every  where  :  no  lon- 
ger to  be  racked  by  eternal  remorfes,  which  poifoned  every 
comfort  of  life  :  In  a  word,  to  be  delivered  from  iniquity  ! 
The  fenfes  may  ftill  fufFer  from  the  forrows  of  virtue,  but 
the  heart  at  leaft  is  tranquil. 

Secondly,  The  certainty  that  our  fufferings  are  not  loft  ; 
that  our  forrows  become  a  new  merit  for  us  ;  that  our  re- 
pugnances, in  preparing  for  us  new  facrifices,  fecure  an 
additional  claim  to  the  promifes  of  faith;  that  were  virtue 
to  coft  us  lefs,  it  would  likewife  bear  an  inferior  price  in 
the  fight  of  God  ;  and  that  he  only  renders  the  road  fo  dif- 
ficult, in  order  to  render  our  crown  more  brilliant  and 
glorious. 

Thirdly, 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  97 

Thirdly,  Submiflion  to  the  orders  of  God,  who  has  his 
reafons  forrefufing  to  us  the  vifible  confolations  of  virtue  ; 
whofewifdom  confults  our  intereft  more  than  our  paffions ; 
and  who  has  preferred  bringing  us  to  himfelf  by  a  lefs 
agreeable  road,  becaufe  it  is  a  more  fecure  one. 

Fourthly,  The  favours  with  which  he  accompanies  our 
forrows  ;  which  fuftain  our  faith  at  the  fame  time  that  our 
violences  lower  felf-love  ;  which  fortify  our  heart  in  truth, 
at  the  fame  time  that  our  fenfes  are  difgufted  with  it :  which 
make  our  mind  prompt  and  fervent,  although  the  flefh  is 
weak  and  feeble  ;  in  fo  much,  that  he  renders  our  virtue 
fo  much  the  more  folid,  as  to  us  it  feems  melancholy  and 
painful. 

Fifthly,  The  external  fuccours  of  piety,  which  are  fo 
many  new  refources  in  our  faintings  and  thirft ;  the  holy 
myfteries,  where  Jefus  Chrift,  himfelf  the  comforter  of 
faithful  fouls,  comes  to  confole  our  heart ;  the  truths  of 
the  divine  writings,  which  promife  nothing  in  this  world 
to  the  upright  but  tribulation  and  tears  ;  calm  our  fears,  by 
informing  us,  that  our  pleafures  are  to  come  ;  and  that  the 
fufFerings  which  difcourage  us,  far  from  making  us  dirtruft 
our  virtue,  ought  to  render  our  hope  more  animated  and 
certain  :  In  a  word,  the  hiftory  of  the  faints,  who  have 
undergone  the  fame  difgufts  and  trials  ;  confequently,  we 
have  fo  much  the  lefs  reafon  to  complain,  as  characters  fo 
infinitely  more  pious  than  we  have  experienced  the  fame 
lot;  that  fuch  has  almoft  always  been  the  conduct  of  God 
towards  his  fervants  ;  and  that  if  any  thing  in  this  life  can 
prove  his  love  towards  us,  it  is  that  of  his  leading  us  by 
the  fame  path  that  he  did  the  faints,  and  treating  us  in  this 
world  in  the  fame  manner  as  he  did  the  upright. 

Sixthly,  The  tranquillity  of   the  life,  and  the  unifor- 
Vol.  I.  N  roity 


98 


SERMON     III. 


mitv  of  the  duties,  which  have  fucceeded  to  the  phrenfies  of 
the  paflions,  and  the  tumult  of  a  worldly  life  ;  which  have 
provided  for  us  much  more  happy  and  peaceful  days  than 
thofe  we  had  ever  pafTed  in  the  midft  of  diffipation ;  and 
which,  though  they  frill  leave  us  fomething  to  fuffer,  yet 
occafion  us  to  enjoy  a  more  tranquil  and  fupportable  lot. 

Laflly,  Faith,  which  brings  eternity  nearer  to  us ;  which 
difcovers  to  us  the  infignificancy  of  worldly  affairs  ;  that 
we  approach  the  happy  term  ;  that  the  prefent  life  is  but  a 
rapid  inftant ;  and  confequently,  that  our  fufferings  can- 
not endure  long,  but  that  this  fleeting  moment  of  tribula- 
tion afTures  to  us  a  glorious  and  immortal  futurity,  which 
will  endure  as  long  as  God  himfelf.  What  refources  for 
a  faithful  heart  !  What  difproportion  betwixt  the  fufferings 
of  virtue  and  thofe  of  guilt !  It  is  in  order  to  make  us  feel 
the  difference  that  God  often  permits  the  world  to  poffefs  us 
for  a  time  ;  that  in  youth  we  deliver  ourfelves  up  to  the  fv/ay 
of  the  paflions  ;  on  purpofethat  when  he  afterwards  recalls  us 
to  himfelf,  we  may  know  by  experience  how  much  more 
eafy  is  his  yoke  than  that  of  the  world  :  I  will  permit,  fays 
he  in  the  Scriptures,  that  my  people  ferve  the  nations  of 
the  earth  for  fome  time ;  that  they  allow  themfelves  to  be 
feduced  by  their  profane  fuperflitions,  in  order  that  they 
may  know  the  difference  betwixt  my  fervice  and  the 
fervice  of  the  kings  of  the  earth  ;  and  that  they  may  feel 
how  much  more  eafy  is  my  yoke  than  the  fervitude  of 
men. 

Happv  the  fouls,  who,  in  order  to  be  undeceived,  have 
had  no  occafion  for  this  experience,  and  who  have  not  fo 
dearly  bought  the  knowledge  of  this  world's  vanity,  and  the 
melancholy  lot  of  iniquitous  paflions.  Alas !  finceat  laft  we 
mull  be  undeceived,  and  muff  abandon  and  defpife  it  ;  fince 

the 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  59 

the  day  will  come,  when  we  fhall  find  it  frivolous,  difgufting, 
and  infupportable  ,  when  of  all  its  foolilh  joys,  there  (hall 
no  longer  remain  to  us,  but  the  cruel  remorfe  of  having 
yielded  to  them  ;  the  confufion  of  having  followed  them  ; 
the  obftacles  to  good  which  they  will  have  left  in  our  heart ; 
why  not  anticipate  and  prevent  fuch  melancholy  regrets  ? 
Why  not  do  to-day,  what  we  allow  ourfelves  muft  one  day 
be  done  ?  Why  wait  till  the  world  has  made  fuch  deep 
wounds  in  our  heart,  to  run  afterwards  to  remedies,  which 
cannot  re-eftablifh  us  without  greater  pain,  and  coding  us 
doubly  dear  ?  We  complain  of  fome  flight  difgufts  which 
accompany  virtue ;  but  alas !  the  firft  believers,  who,  to 
the  maxims  of  the  gofpel,  facrificed  their  riches,  reputa- 
tion, and  life ;  who  run  to  the  fcaffolds  to  conrefs  Jefus 
Chrift;  who  palled  their  days  in  chains,  in  prifons,  in 
fhame  and  in  fufferance,  and  to  whom  it  coft  fo  much  to 
ferve  Jefus  Chrift ;  did  they  complain  of  the  bitternefs  of 
his  fervice  ?  Did  they  reproach  him  with  rendering  unhap- 
py thofe  who  ferved  him  ?  Ah  !  they  glorified  themfelves 
in  their  tribulation ;  they  preferred  fhame  and  difgrace 
with  Jefus  Chrift  to  all  the  vain  pleafures  of  Egypt ;  they 
reckoned  as  nothing,  wheels,  fires,  and  every  inftrument  of 
torture,  in  the  hopes  of  a  bleffed  immortality,  which 
would  amply  recompenfe  their  prefent  fufferings  :  In  the 
midft  of  torments,  they  chanted  hymns  ;  and  regarded  as 
a  gain,  the  lofs  of  all,  for  the  interefts  of  their  mafter. 
What  a  life,  in  the  eyes  of  the  flefh,  is  that  of  thefe  un- 
fortunate men,  prefcribed,  perfecuted,  driven  from  their 
country,  having  only  dens  and  caverns  for  their  habitation, 
regarded  every  where  as  the  horror  of  the  univerfe ;  be- 
come execrable  to  their  friends,  their  fellow-citizens,  and 
their  relations  !  They  efteemed  themfelves  happy  in  be- 
longing to  Jefus  Chrift ;  in  their  opinion,  they  could  not 
too  dearly  purchafe  the  glory  of  being  his   difciples,  and 

the 


100  SERMON     III. 

the  confolation  of  pretending  to  his  promifes :  And  we, 
my  brethren,  in  the  midft  of  too  many  of  the  conve- 
niences of  life  ;  furrounded  by  too  much  abundance, 
profperitry  and  worldly  glory ;  finding,  perhaps  for  our 
misfortune,  in  the  applaufes  of  the  world,  which  cannot 
prevent  itfelf  from  effeeming  worth,  the  recompenfe  of 
virtue;  in  the  midft  of  our  relations,  our  children,  and 
our  friends ;  we  complain,  that  it  cofts  us  too  much  to 
ferve  Jefus  Chrift  ;  we  murmur  againft  the  flight  bitternefs 
\ve  experience  in  virtue ;  we  almoft  perfuade  ourfelves, 
that  God  requires  too  much  of  his  creatures  :  Ah  !  when 
the  comparifon  fhall  one  day  be  made  betwixt  thefe  little 
difgufts  which  we  exaggerate  fo  much  ;  and  the  crofTes,  the 
wheels,  the  fires,  and  all  the  the  tortures  of  the  martyrs  ;  the 
aufterities  of  the  anchorites  ;  the  fafts,  the  tears,  and  fufFer- 
ings  of  fo  many  holy  penitents  ;  alas  !  we  fhall  then  blufh 
to  find  ourfelves  almoft  fingle  before  Jefus  Chrift  ;  we, 
who  have  furTered  nothing  for  him  ;  to  whom  hit  kingdom 
has  coft  nothing  ;  and  who  individually  bearing  before  his 
tribunal  more  iniquities  than  a  number  of  faints  together, 
cannot,  however,  in  afTembling  all  our  works  of  pietv, 
compare  them  united  to  a  fingle  inftanceof  their  exertions. 

Let  us  ceafe,  therefore,  to  complain  of  God,  fince  he 
has  fo  many  reafons  to  complain  of  us  ;  let  us  ferve  him 
as  he  wifhes  to  be  ferved  by  us ;  if  he  foftens  our  yoke, 
let  us  blefs  bis  goodnefs,  which  prepares  thefe  confolations 
for  our  weaknefs  ;  if  he  makes  us  feel  the  whole  extent  of 
its  weight,  let  us  ftill  efteem  ourfelves  happy,  that  he 
deigns  at  that  price  to  accept  of  our  works  and  homage  : 
With  equal  gratitude,  let  us  receive  from  his  hand  confo- 
lation or  affliclion,  fince  every  thing  which  proceeds  from 
him  alike  conducts  us  to  him  :  Let  us  learn,  to  be  as  the 
Apoftle,  in  want  or  abundance,  provided  we  belong  to  Jefus 

Chrift 


THE  DISGUSTS  ACCOMPANYING  VIRTUE.  101 

Chrift ;  the  effential  part  is  not,  to  ferve  him  with  pleafure, 
it  is  not  to  ferve  him  with  fidelity.  In  reality,  my  breth- 
ren, in  fpite  of  all  the  difguils  or  repugnances  which  may 
accompany  virtue,  there  is  no  real  or  true  pleafure  but  in 
ferving  God;  there  is  no  folid  confolation  to  be  reaped, 
but  by  attaching  ourfelves  to  him,  No,  faid  the  Sage,  it 
is  flill  better  to  feed  upon  the  bread  of  wormwood  and  gall 
with  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  than  to  live  in  the  midft  of 
pleafures  and  profane  joys,  under  the  lafh  of  his  wrath 
and  indignation.  Alas  !  of  what  pleafure  can  we  be  ca- 
pable, when  we  are  the  enemies  of  God  ?  What  pleafure 
can  we  tafte,  when  we  bear  in  our  heart  only  the  anguifh 
and  bitternefs  of  guilt  ?  No,  fays  the  Sage  once  more, 
The  fear  of  God  can  alone  charm  our  wearineffes ;  foften 
our  moments  of  melancholy ;  foothe  our  endlefs  anguifh- 
es  ;  and  enable  us  to  find  a  certain  degree  of  fweetnefs, 
even  in  the  evils  incident  to  our  nature.  It  is  that  which 
renders  retirement  fweet,  and  enables  us  to  enjoy  repofe, 
far  from  the  world  and  its  amufements  :  It  is  that  which 
makes  days  pafs  quickly,  and  occupies  in  peace  and  tran- 
quillity every  moment ;  and  though  apparently  it  allows  us 
more  leifure  than  a  worldly  life,  yet  it  leaves  a  much  fmall- 
er  portion  to  wearinefs. 

Great  God  !  What  honour  does  not  the  world  uninten- 
tionally pay  to  thy  fervice  !  What  an  affecting  eulogium 
on  the  deftiny  of  the  upright  is  the  lot  of"  finners !  How 
well,  my  God,  thou  knoweft  to  extort  glory  and  praife 
from  even  thy  enemies !  and  how  little  excufe  thou  leaveft 
to  thofe  fouls  who  depart  from  thy  paths,  fince  in  order  to 
draw  them  to  virtue,  thou  makeff  a  refource  to  them  even 
of  their  crimes ;  and  employefl  their  wants  to  recal  them 
to  thy  eternal  mercies. 

Now  to  God,  &c.  SERMON 


SERMON   IV. 

THE  UNCERTAINTY  OF  RIGHTEOUSNESS  IN  A. 
STATE  OF  LUKEJVARMNESS. 


Luke  iv.  38. 
And  he  rofe  out  of  the  Synagogue^  and  entered  into  Si- 
mon 3  houfe  :  and  Simon  s  wife's  mother  was  taken  with  a 
great  fever  :  and  they  befought  him  for  her. 

i\  othing  more  naturally  reprefents  the  fituation  of  a 
languid  and  lukewarm  foul,  than  the  ftate  of  infirmity 
in  which  the  gofpel  here  defcribes  Peter's  mother-in-law 
to  have  been.  It  may  be  faid,  that  coldnefs  and  indolence 
in  the  ways  of  God,  though  otherwife  accompanied  with 
a  life  free  from  enormities,  is  a  kind  of  fecret  and  danger- 
ous fever,  which  gradually  undermines  the  powers  of  the 
foul,  changes  all  its  good  difpofitions,  weakens  its  facul- 
ties, infenfibly  corrupts  its  inward  parts,  alters  its  propen- 
fities,  fpreads  an  univerfal  bitternefs  through  all  its  duties, 
difgufls  it  with  every  thing  proper,  with  all  holy  and  ne- 
cefTary  nourifhment ;  and  finifhes  at  Iaft,  by  a  total  extinc- 
tion, and  an  inevitable  death* 

This  langour  of  the  foul,  in  the  path  of  falvation,  is  fo 
much  the  more  dangerous,  as  it  is  lefs  obferved. 

Our  exemption  from  open  irregularity  gives  us  confi- 
dence ;  the  external  regularity  of  conduct,  which  attracts 
from  men  thofe  praifes  due  only  to  virtue,  flatters  us ;  and 

the 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  103 

the  fccret  companion  we  make  of  our  morals  with  the  ex- 
cefles  of  thofe  avowed  finners,  whom  the  world  and  their 
paflions  govern,  unites  to  blind  us  :  We  regard  our  fitu- 
ation  as  a  flate,  lefs  perfect  indeed,  but  always  certain  of 
falvation  ;  feeing  our  confcience  can  only  reproach  us  with 
indolence  and  negligence  in  the  difcharge  of  our  duties  ; 
too  lenient  a  correction  of  our  appetites ;  felf-love,  and 
fome  flight  infidelities,  which  do  not  bring  death  to  the 
foul.  Nevertheless,  fince  the  holy  writings  reprefent  the 
adulterous  and  the  lukewarm  foul  as  equally  rejected  by 
God ;  and  as  they  pronounce  the  fame  anathema  againft 
thofe  who  defpife  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  thofe  who 
perform  them  with  negligence,  this  flate  of  coldnefs  and 
languor  in  the  ways  of  God,  mull  neceffarily  be  very  fuf- 
picious  with  regard  to  falvation,  both  from  the  prefent  dif- 
pofitions  which  it  gives  to  the  foul ;  and  from  thofe  to 
which,   fooner  or  later,  it  never  fails  to  lead  it, 

I  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  from  the  prefent  difpofitions  it 
gives  to  the  foul ;  namely,  a  fund  of  indolence,  felf-love, 
difgufl  at  virtue,  infidelity,  and  deliberate  difregard  to 
every  thing  they  believe  not  abfolutely  efiential  in  their  du- 
ties :  Difpofitions,  that  form  a  flate,  very  doubtful  of  fal- 
vation. 

Secondly,  From  thofe,  to  which,  fooner  or  later,  hike- 
warmnefs  conduces  us  ;  namely,  a  forgetfulnefs  of  God, 
and  an  open  and  fhameful  departure  from  every  thing  fa- 
cred. 

From  thefe  I  wifh  to  eflablifh  two  capital  truths  in  this 
matter,  which  expofe  the  danger  of  a  lukewarm  and  infi- 
del life ;  and  which,  from  their  importance,   will  furnifh 

us 


104  SERMON    IV. 

us  with  fubjeft  for  two  difcourfes.  The  firtt,  that  it  is 
very  doubtful,  whether  in  this  habitual  ftate  of  coldnefs 
and  languor,  the  lukewarm  foul  (as  it  believes,)  preferves 
the  righteoufnefs  and  fan&ifying  grace  upon  which  it 
grounds  its  fecurity. 

The  fecond,  That  it  were  even  lefs  doubtful,  whether 
it  had  prefer ved  or  loft  before  God,  the  fanclifying  grace ; 
at  any  rate,  it  is  certain  of  being  unable  long  to  pre- 
fer ve  it. 

The  uncertainty  of  righteoufnefs  in  a  ftate  of  lukewarm- 
nefs.  This  firft  truth  will  be  the  fubje£t  of  the  prefent 
Difcourfe. 

The  certainty  of  a  departure  from  righteoufnefs  in  that 
ftate  is  the  fecond  truth,  upon  which,  in  the  following  one, 
I  fhall  endeavour  to  inftrucl  you. 

Part  I.  "If  we  fay  that  we  have  no  fin,  we  deceive 
ourfelves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us,"  fays  an  Apoftle. 
The  pureft  virtue  below  is  never  free,  therefore,  from 
ftain.  Man,  full  of  darknefs  and  paftions,  fince  the  entrance 
of  fin  into  the  world,  cannot  always  be  fo  attentive  to  regu- 
larity, but  that  he  muft  fometimes  be  deceived,  and  err; 
nor  fo  imprefled  with  invifible  good,  but  he  will  allow 
himfelf  to  be  fometimes  caught  by  worldly  and  oftenfible 
riches ;  becaufe  their  impreftions  on  the  mind  are  lively 
and  quick,  and  they  always  find  in  our  hearts  difpofitions 
too  favourable  to  their  dangerous  feduclions. 

The  fidelity  which  the  law  of  God  exacls  from  juft  fouls, 
excludes  not,  therefore,  a  thoufand  imperfections,  infepa- 

rable 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMN ESS.  10£ 

rable  from  our  nature,  and  from  which  the  moil  guarded 
and  watchful  piety  cannot  defend  itfelf ;  but  of  thefe,  there 
are  two  defcriptions  :  The  firfl,  which  happen  through  our 
weaknefs,  are  lefs  infidelities  than  furprifes,  where  the 
weight  of  corruption  preponderates  over  the  inclination  or 
choice;  and  which  the  Lord,  fays  St.  Augufline,  permits 
to  remain  in  the  moft  faithful  fouls,  in  order  to  nourilh 
their  humility  ;  excite  their  lamentations ;  reanimate  their 
defires  ;  their  difgufls  at  their  prefent  exilement,  and  their 
longings  for  its  termination  :  The  fecond  clafs  are  thofe 
which  pleafe  us  ;  which  we  juflify  to  ourfelves  ;  which  it 
appears  impollible  for  us  to  renounce  ;  which  we  look  up- 
on as  necefiary  fweetners  of  virtue  ;  in  which  we  fee  no- 
thing criminal,  becaufe  we  perceive  not  the  guilt;  which 
form  a  part  of  the  deliberate  and  general  fyflem  of  our 
morals  and  conduct,  and  conftitute  that  flate  of'  indolence 
and  coldnefs  in  the  ways  of  God,  which  is  the  caufe  of 
condemnation  to  fo  many,  born  otherwife,  perhaps,  with 
principles  of  virtue,  deteflation  of  iniquity  ;  a  fund  of  re- 
ligion, and  fear  of  God;  and  happy  difpofitions  for  falva- 
tion. 

Now,  I  fay,  that  this  flate  of  relaxation  and  infidelity ; 
this  tranquil  and  continued  negligence  of  every  thing 
which  perhaps  appears  not  effential  in  our  duties  ;  this  ef- 
feminate indulgence  of  all  our  defires,  fo  long  as  they  of- 
fer not  actual  guilt  to  our  fight :  In  a  word,  this  life,  al- 
together according  to  our  animal  nature,  our  humours, 
temperaments,  and  felf-love,  fo  common  with  thofe  who 
make  a  public  profeffion  of  piety ;  fo  fafe  in  appearance  ; 
fo  glorious  even  in  the  eyes  of  men ;  and  to  which  the 
general  error  attaches  the  names  of  virtue  and  regularity  : 
I  fay,  that  this  is  a  flate  extremely  doubtful,  to  attain  falva- 
tion;  that   it  derives  its  fource  from  an   irregular  heart, 

Vol.  I.  O  where 


106  SERMON     IV. 

where  the  Holy  Spirit  no  longer  reigns  ;  and  that  all  the 
role*  of  faith  induce  us  to  think,  that  a  foul  of  this  def- 
cription  is  already,  without  being  fenfible  of  it,  fallen  from 
righteoufnefs  and  grace  :  In  the  firft  place,  Becaufe  the 
defireof  perfection  efTential  to  Chriflian  piety,  is  extinguish- 
ed in  his  heart.  Secondly,  Becaufe  the  rules  of  faith,  al- 
moft  always  very  uncertain  in  the  diftinction  of  guilt  from 
venial  errors,  with  regard  to  other  finners,  are  infinitely 
more  fo  with  refneft  to  the  unfaithful  and  lukewarm  heart. 
Thirdly,  Becaufe  of  all  the  external  marks  of  a  living  and 
habitual  charity,  there  is  not  in  it  the  fmalleft  appearance 
of  one.  Let  us  inveftigate  thefe  truths  ;  for  they  are  indeed 
worthy  of  your  attention.  ~~ 

Every  Chriftian  foul  is  obliged  to  bend  every  effort  to- 
wards the  perfection  of  his  ftate.  I  fay  obliged  :  for  although 
the  degree  of  perfection  be  not  comprifed  in  the  precept, 
to  endeavour  at,  to  labour  for  perfection  is  neverthelefs  a 
commandment,  and  a  duty  effential  to  every  believer.  Be 
ye  perfect,  fays  our  Saviour,  becaufe  the  heavenly  Father 
whom  ye  ferve  is  perfect.  I  can  perceive  but  one  effential 
point,  faid  St.  Paul,  viz.  to  forget  whatever  I  have  done 
to  this  period  ;  (and  what,  my  brethren,  was  he  to  forget  ? 
his  endlefs  labours,  continual  fufferings,  and  apoftolic 
courfes  ;  fo  many  nations  converted  to  faith;  fo  many  il- 
luftrious  churches  founded  ;  fo  many  revelations  and  prodi- 
gies ?J  and  inceffantly  advancing  to  direct  my  views  to  the 
attainment  of  what  I  have  yet  to  perform.  The  defire  of 
perfection  ;  the  continued  efforts  to  attain  it  ;  the  holy  in- 
quietudes in  confequence  of  the  innumerable  obftacles 
which  check  our  progrefs,  do  not  therefore  com prife  only 
a  fimple  advice,  and  a  practice  referved  for  the  cloifter 
and  the  deferc  alone,  they  form  the  effential  ftate  of  a 
Chriftian,  and  the  life  according  to  faith  on  this  earth. 

For 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  107 

l¥or  the  life,  according  to  faith,  which  the  juft  man 
leads,  is  only  an  uninterrupted  defire,  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  may  be  accomplished  in  our  hearts  ;  a  holy  eagernefs, 
to  form  a  perfecl:  refemblance  in"  us  to  Jefus  Chnft,  and 
to  increafe  even  to  the  plenitude  of  the  new  man  ;  a  con- 
tinual lamentation,  excited  by  the  internal  fenfibility  ot 
our  own  miferies,  and  by  the  load  of  corruption  which 
opprefles  the  foul,  and  makes  it  to  bear  fo  many  marks 
ftill  of  the  worldly  man ;  a  daily  ftruggle  betwixt  the  law 
of  the  Spirit,  which  continually  wifhes  to  raife  us  above 
our  fenfual  appetites,  and  the  dominion  of  the  flefh, 
which  inceflantly  draws  us  back  towards  ourfelves  :  Such 
is  the  flate  of  faith,  and  of  Chri.ftian  piety.  Whoever 
you  be,  great,  or  of  humble  rank,  prince  or  fubjecl,  cour- 
tier or  reclufe,  behold  the  perfection  to  which  you  are  call- 
ed ;  behold  the  ground-work,  and  the  fpirit  of  your  voca- 
tion. The  auflerities  of  an  Anchorite  ;  the  filence  and  fo- 
litude  of  the  defert ;  the  poverty  of  the  cloifter,  are  not 
demanded  of  you ;  but  you  are  required  to  labour  incef- 
fantly  towards  the  reprefTion  of  thofe  internal  defires,  which 
oppofe  themfelves  to  the  law  of  God  ;  to  mortify  thofe  re- 
bellious inclinations,  which  fo  unwillingly  fubmit  to  order 
and  duty ;  in  a  word,  to  advance  as  much  as  pofTible  your 
perfecl:  conformity  with  Jefus  Chrift :  Behold  the  degree 
of  perfection  to  which  Chriftian  grace  calls  you,  and  the 
efTential  duty  of  a  juft  foul.    - 

Now,  from  the  moment  you  give  way  to  every  inclina- 
tion, provided  it  extends  not  to  the  abfolute  infraction  of 
the  precept;  from  the  moment  you  confine  yourfelves  to 
the  effentials  of  the  law ;  that  you  eftablifh  a  kind  of  fyf- 
tem  of  coldnefs  and  negligence ;  that  you  fay  to  yourfelves, 
"  We  are  unable  to  fupport  a  more  exatt,  or  more  exera 
*'  plary  life  ;"  from  that  moment  you  renounce  the  defire 

of 


108  SERMON     IV. 

of  perfection  :  You  no  longer  propofe  to  yourfelves  an 
unceafing  advancement  towards  that  point  of  piety  and  holi- 
nefs  to  which  the  Almighty  calls  you,  and  towards  .which 
his  grace  never  ceafes  to  impel  you  in  fecret :  You  no 
longer  grieve  over  thofe  miferies  and  weakneffes,  fo  inimi- 
cal to  your  progrefs  :  You  no  longer  wifh  the  kingdom  of 
God  to  be  eftablifhed  in  your  hearts  :  You  abandon,  there- 
fore, from  that  moment,  the  great  work  of  righteoufnefs, 
at  which  you  are  commanded  to  labour  :  You  neglect  the 
care  of  your  foul  :  You  enter  not  into  the  defigns  of  grace. 
On  the  contrary,  you  check  its  holy  impreflions  :  You 
are  no  longer  Chriftian  ;  that  is  to  fay,  that  this  difpofi- 
tion  alone,  this  formal  intention  of  limiting  yourfelves  to 
the  efTentials,  and  of  regarding  all  the  reft  as  laudable  ex- 
cefies,  and  works  of  fupererogation,  is  a  ftate  of  fin  and 
death,  fince  it  is  an  avowed  contempt  of  that  great  com- 
mandment, which  requires  us  to  be  perfect ;  that  is  to  fay, 
to  labour  towards  becoming  fo. 

Neverthelefs,  when  we  come  to  inftruft  you  with  re- 
gard to  Chriflian  perfection,  you  look  upon  it  as  to  be 
found  only  in  cloifters  and  folitudes,  and  fcarcely  will  you 
deign  to  give  the  fmalleft  attention  to  our  inftru&ions. 
You  deceive  yourfelves,  my  brethren  :  The  individuals 
who  adopt  retirement,  certainly  employ  aufterities,  fall- 
ings, and  watchings,  as  means  to  fucceed  in  that  mortifi- 
cation of  the  pafiions,  to  which  we  are  equally  invited  : 
They  engage  themfelves  to  a  perfection  of  means,  which  I 
confefs  our  ftate  will  not  admit  of ;  but  the  perfection  of 
the  end,  to  which  thefe  means  conduct,  viz.  the  com- 
mand and  regulation  of  the  affections,  proper  contempt 
of  the  world,  detachment  from  ourlelves,  fubmiflion  of 
the  fenfes  and  the  flefh  to  the  Spirit,  and  renovation  of 
the  heart,  are  the  perfection  of  all  ftates,  the  engagement 

of 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  109 

of  all  Chriftians,  and  the  covenant  of  our  baptifm.  To 
renounce  this  perfection  therefore,  by  limiting  ourfelves 
from  choice,  or  in  confequence  of  our  rank  in  the  world, 
to  an  effeminate,  fenfual,  and  worldly  life,  exempt  only 
from  finking  enormities,  is  to  renounce  the  Chriftian  call- 
ing, and  change  the  grace  of  faith,  which  has  made  us 
members  of  Jefus  Chrift,  into  a  fhameful  and  unworthy 
indolence.     Firft  reafon. 

But  were  this  flate  even  not  fo  dubious  for  falvation, 
with  refpecl  to  the  defire  of  that  perfection  efTential  to  a 
Chriftian  life,  and  which  is  extinguished  in  a  lukewarm 
and  unfaithful  foul,  it  would  become  fo  by  the  imbecility 
which  it  occafions,  and  in  which  it  places  itfelf,  of  diftin- 
guifhing  in  its  conduct,  the  infidelities  which  may  extend 
to  guilt,  from  thofe  which  may  be  termed  fimple  errors. 
For  though  it  is  true,  that  all  fins  are  not  fins  which  bring 
death,  as  St.  John  obferves,  and  that  Chriftian  morality 
acknowledges  errors,  which  only  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit 
within  us  ;  and  others  which  extinguifh  it  altogether  in 
the  foul  ;  neverthelefs  the  rules  which  it  furnifties  to  dif- 
tinguifh  thefe,  can  neither  be  always  certain  nor  general 
at  the  moment  they  are  applied  :  Some  circumftances  re- 
lative to  ourfelves  continually  change  their  nature.  I 
fpeak  not  here  of  thofe  manifeft  and  abfolute  tranfgrefnons 
of  the  precepts  marked  in  the  law,  which  leave  no  hefita- 
tion  refpecling  the  enormity  of  the  offence  :  I  fpeak  of  a 
thoufand  doubtful  and  daily  tranfgreflions  ;  of  hatred, 
jealoufy,  evil-fpeaking,  fenfuality,  vanity,  idlcnefs,  du- 
plicity, negligence  in  the  practice  of  our  duties,  and  am- 
bition ;  in  all  which,  it  Is  extremely  difficult  to  define 
how  far  the  precept  may  be  violated  :  Now,  I  fay,  that  it 
is  by  the  difpofition  alone  of  the  heart,  that  the  meafure 
and  guilt  of  thefe  faults  can  be  decided  ;  that   the  rules 

there 


110  SERMON     IV. 

there  are  always  uncertain  and  changeable  ;  and  that  fre- 
quently what  is  only  weaknefs  or  fuprife  in  the  juft,  is 
guilt  and  corruption  not  only  in  the  finner,  but  hkewife 
in  the  lukewarm  and  unfaithful  foul :  This  is  proven  by 
the  following  examples  taken  trom  the  Holy  writings. 

Saul,  in  difobedience  to  the  order  of  the  Lord,  fpared 
the  king  of  the  Amalekites,  and  the  moft  precious  fpoils 
of  that  infidel  prince.  The  crime  does  not  appear  confider- 
able ;  but  as  it  proceeded  from  a  fund  of  pride,  of  relaxa- 
tion in  the  ways  of  God,  and  a  vain  complaifance  in  his 
victory  ;  this  aftion  is  the  commencement  of  his  reproba- 
tion, and  the  Spirit  of  God  withdraws  itfelf  from  him. 
Jofhua,  on  the  contrary,  too  credulous,  fpares  the  Gibe- 
onites,  whom  the  Lord  had  commanded  him  to  extermi- 
nate :  He  went  not  before  the  ark  toconfult  him  previous 
to  his  alliance  with  thefe  impoftors.  But  this  infidelity 
being  an  aft  of  precipitancy  and  furprife,  rather  than  a 
difobedience  ;  and  proceeding  from  a  heart  ftill  faithful, 
religious,  and  fubmifJive  to  God,  it  appears  flight  in  his 
eyes,  and  the  pardon  almofl  immediately  follows  the  crime. 
Now  if  this  principle  be  incontrovertible,  upon  what  do 
you  depend,  when  you  regard  your  daily  and  habitual  in- 
fidelities as  flight  ?  Are  you  acquainted  with  all  the  cor- 
ruption of  your  heart,  from  which  they  proceed  ?  God 
knows  it,  who  is  the  fearcher  and  judge  ;  and  his  eyes  are 
very  different  from  thofe  of  men.  But  if  it  be  permit- 
ted to  judge  before  the  time,  fay,  if  this  fund  of  indolence 
and  infidelity  which  is  in  \ou  ;  of  voluntary  perfeverance 
in  a  flate  difpleafing  to  God  ;  of  deliberate  contempt  for 
all  the  duties  which  you  confidcr  as  not  eflential;  of  at- 
tention and  care,  as  I  may  fay,  to  labour  only  for  the 
Lord  when  he  opens  before  you  the  gates  of  punifhment 
and    deftruftion :  Say,   if  all   thefe  can   conftitute  in  his 

fight 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  Ill 

fight  a  Hate  worthy  of  a  Chriftian  heart ;  and  if  faults, 
which  proceed  from  fo  corrupted  a  principle,  can  in  re- 
ality be  flight,  or  worthy   of  indulgence  ? 

Paul,  my  brethren,  that  miraculous  man,  to  whom  the 
fecrets  of  heaven  had  been  revealed  ;  Paul,  who  no  lon- 
ger lived  for  himfelf,  but  in  whom  Jefus  Chrift  alone  liv- 
ed ;  Paul,  who  earneftly  longed  every  moment  for  the  dif- 
folutionof  his  earthly  body,  that  he  might  be  clothed  with 
immortality :  This  Apoftle,  always  ready  to  facrifice  his 
life  for  his  mafter,  and  a  willing  victim  to  faith  ;  this  elect- 
ed inftrument  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  whofe  confcience 
could  reproach  him  with  nothing ;  knew  not,  however, 
whether  he  merited  the  love  or  hatred  of  his  Lord  ?  whether 
he  ftill  pofTefTed  in  his  heart,  or  had  forfeited  the  inviii- 
ble  treafure  of  charity  ;  and  in  thef'e  melancholy  doubts, 
the  teftimony  of  his  confcience  was  infufficient  to  calm 
his  dread  and  uncertainty.  David,  that  king  fo  penitent, 
whofe  delights  were  centered  in  the  conftant  meditation  of 
the  law  of  God,  and  whom  the  Holy  Spirit  calls  a  king 
after  God's  own  heart ;  David  trembles,  however,  left  the 
iniquity  of  his  crimes  be  not  fufficiently  known  to  him  ; 
left  the  corruption  of  his  heart  conceals  not  from  him 
their  enormity.  He  figures  to  himfelf  unknown  gulfs  in 
his  confcience;  which  caufe  him  to  fbed  torrents  of  tears  ; 
to  proftrate  himfelf  before  the  Majefty  and  Holinefs  of  his 
God,  and  fupplicate  his  aftiftance  towards  his  purification 
from  fecret  infidelities,  by  making  him  fenfible  of  them. 
And  you,  who  watch  not,  nor  fearch  your  hearts  ;  you, 
who  devoted  to  lukewarm  and  fenfual  habits,  with  delibe- 
rate coolnefs,  allow  yourfelves  every  day  a  thoufand  infi- 
delities, upon  the  iniquity  of  which,  you  are  utterly  igno- 
rant what  judgment  the  Almighty  may  form  :  You,  who 

every 


112  SERMON     IV. 

every  moment  experience  thofe  fufpicious  ebulitions  of 
paifion,  where,  in  fpite  of  all  your  felf-indulgence,  you 
find  it  fo  difficult  to  prove,  that  the  will  has  not  accompa- 
nied the  gratification  :  and  that  you  have  not  overftept 
that  critical  and  dangerous  line,  which  diftingui  flies  aclual 
guilt  from  involuntary  error:  You,  in  whomalmoft  every 
aftion  is  fufpicious  ;  who  every  moment  may  be  demand- 
ing at  your  own  heart,  "  Have  I  not  gone  too  far  ?"  who, 
in  your  own  confeience,  feel  movements  and  regrets, 
which  you  will  never  quiet :  You,  who  in  fpite  of  fo  ma- 
ny ju  ft  fubje&s  of  dread,  believe  the  ftate  of  your  con- 
feience to  be  perfectly  known  to  you  ;  that  the  decifions  of 
your  own  felf-love,  with  regard  to  your  infidelities,  are 
the  decifions  of  the  Almighty  ;  and  that  the  Lord  whom 
you  ferve  with  fo  much  coldnefs  and  negligence,  does  not 
yield  you  up  to  your  own  blindnefs,  and  puniih  your 
crimes,  by  making  you  miftake  them:  You  can  poffibly 
believe  that  you  ftill  preferve  your  righteoufnefs,  and  the 
grace  of  fanclification,  and  can  quiet  yourfelves  upon  your 
vifible  and  habitual  guilt,  by  a  pretended  invifible  exer- 
cife  of  righteoufnefs,  of  which  you  can  produce  neither 
mark  or  proof  ? 

O  man  !  How  little  art  thou  acquainted  with  the  illu- 
fions  of  the  human  heart,  and  the  terrible  judgments  of 
God  upon  thofe  fouls  which  refemble  thee !  Thou  fayeft 
to  thyfclf;  lam  rich,  I  am  loaded  with  the  good  things 
of  this  world  ;  (with  this,  our  Saviour  formerly  reproach- 
ed a  cold  and  unbelieving  foul  ;)  And  thou  perceivefl  not, 
continued  he,  (for  blindnefs  and  prefumption  are  the  dif- 
tinguifhing  character  of  coldnefs,)  that  in  my  fight,  thou 
art  poor,  miferable,  blind,  and  loft  to  every  thing.  It  is 
the  deftiny,  therefore,  of  a  lukewarm  and  unfaithful  foul, 

to 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  113 

to  live  in  error  and  illufion  ;  to  believe  himfelf  juff,  and 
acceptable  to  God  ;  while  alas !  before  him,  he  is  loft, 
without  knowing  it,  to  both  grace  and  righteoufnefs. 

And  one  reflexion,  which  I  beg  you  to  make  here,  is, 
that  the  confidence  of  fuch  fouls,  is  fo  much  the  more  il- 
lufive  and  ill-founded,  as  there  exifts  not  a  foul,  lefs  capa- 
ble of  judging  of  his  own  heart,  than  the  lukewarm  and 
unfaithful  one.  For  the  avowed  finner  cannot  conceal  his 
crimes  from  himfelf ;  and  he  is  fenfible,  that  he  mud  aflu- 
redly  be  dead  to  the  Lord  :  The  juft  man,  although  ignor- 
ant whether  he  merits  love  or  hatred  of  his  mafter,  enjoys 
neverthelefs  a  confcience  free  from  reproach  ;  but  the  cold 
and  unfaithful  foul  is  involved  in  a  flate  of  a  continual  and 
inexplicable  myftery  to  itfelf.  For  this  lukewarmnefs  in 
the  ways  of  God,  enfeebling  in  us  the  lights  of  faith,  and 
flrengthening  our  pafiions,  increafesour  darknefs  :  Every 
infidelity  is  like  an  additional  cloud,  overfpreading  the 
mind  and  heart,  which  darkens  to  our  fight  the  truths 
of  falvation :  In  this  manner,  the  heart  is  gradually  enve- 
loped ;  the  confcience  becomes  embarralfed  ;  the  lights  of 
the  mind  are  weakened :  You  are  no  longer  that  fpiritual 
ChriiHan,  capable  of  a  proper  judgment.  Infenfibly  you 
adopt  maxims  in  fecret,  which,  as  you  think,  diminifh 
your  guilt  :  the  blindnefs  increafcs  in  the  fame  propor- 
tion as  the  lukewarmnefs. 

The  more  you  admit  of  this  relaxation,  in  a  more  alter- 
ed light  do  your  duties  and  rules  appear  :  What  formerly 
appeared  effential,  no  longer  appears  but  a  vain  fcrupie  : 
The  omifiions,  which,  in  the  period  of  fervour  for  duty 
and  religion,  would  have  excited  in  you  the  warmed  com- 
punctions, are  now  no  longer  regarded  even  as  faults :  The 
Vol.  I.  P  principles, 


114  SERMON    17. 

principles,  the  judgment,  the  lights  of  the  mind,  are  all 
changed. 

Now  in  this  fituation,  who  has  told  you,  that  in  the  judg- 
ment which  you  form  on  the  nature  of  your  infidelities, 
and  your  daily  departure  from  virtue,  you  do  not  deceive 
yourfelves  ?  Who  has  told  you,  that  the  errors  which  you 
think  fo  flight,  are  in  reality  fo ;  and  that  the  diftant  boun- 
daries which  you  prefcribe  to  guilt,  and  within  which  eve- 
ry thing  to  you  appears  venial,  are  really  the  limits  of  the 
law  ?  Alas  !  the  mod  enlightened  guides  know  not  how  to 
diftinguifh  clearly  in  a  cold  and  unbelieving  conference. 
Thefe  are  what  I  may  call  the  evils  of  that  languor  in  which 
we  know  nothing ;  where  the  wifeft  of  us  can  fay  nothing 
with  certainty  ;  and  of  which  the  fecret  caufe  is  always  an 
enigma.  You  are  fenfible  yourfelves,  that  in  this  ftate  of 
relaxation,  you  experience  in  your  hearts  certain  doubts 
and  embarrafTments,  which  you  can  never  fufficiently  clear 
up  :  That  in  your  confeiences  there  always  remains  fome- 
thing  fecret  and  inexplicable,  which  you  never  wifh  to 
fearch  into,  or  above  half*  expofe.  Thefe  are  not  exagge- 
rations ;  it  is  the  real  ftate  and  bottom  of  your  foul  which 
you  feel  a  referve  to  lay  open  :  You  are  fenfible,  that  even 
when  proihating  yourfelves  before  the  Almighty,  the  con- 
ieflion  of  your  guilt  never  entirely  correfponds  with  the 
mofl  intimate  difpofitions  of  your  heart ;  that  it  never  paints 
your  internal  fituation  fuch  as  in  reality  it  is  ;  and,  in  a 
word,  that  there  always  exifts  in  your  heart  fomething  more 
criminal,  than  what  in  any  flatement  of  it  you  can  bring 
yourfelves  to  avow.  And,  indeed,  how  can  you  be  cer- 
tain, that  in  thofe  continual  felf-gratifieations  ;  in  that  ef- 
feminacy of  manners  which  compofes  your  life  ;  in  that  at- 
tention to  every  thing  which  may  flatter  the  fenfes,  or  re- 
move difquiet  from  you  ;  to  facrificeto  indolence  and  lazi- 

nefs 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARM  NESS.  11 5 

nefs,  all  which  appears  not  effential  in  your  duties ;  how 
can  you  be  certain,  I  fay,  that  your  felf-love  is  not  arriv- 
ed at  that  fatal  point,  which  ferves  to  give  it  dominion  over 
your  heart,  and  forever  banifh  from  it  Chriftian  charity  ? 
Who  is  able  to  inform  you,  in  thefe  frequent  and  volunta- 
ry infidelities,  where,  comforted  by  their  pretended  infig- 
nificancy,  you  oppofe  the  internal  grace  which  endeavours 
to  turn  you  from  them  ;  you  continually  acl:  contrary  to 
your  own  reafon  and  judgment ;  whether  this  internal  con- 
tempt of  the  voice  of  God  ;  this  formal  and  daily  abufe  of 
your  own  lights  and  grace  from  God  be  not  an  outrage  up- 
on the  divine  goodnefs  ;  a  criminal  contempt  of  his  gifts  ;  a 
wickednefs  in  your  deviations  from  virtue,  which  leaves  no 
excufe ;  and  a  deliberate  preference  toyour  pailions  and  your- 
felves  over  Jefus  Chrift ,  which  can  alone  proceed  from  a 
heart  where  the  love  of  all  order  and  righteoufnefs  is  extin- 
guished ?  Who  can  tell  you,  if  in  thefe  recollections  where 
your  liftlefs  mind  has  a  thoufand  times  dwelt  upon  objects  or 
events  dangerous  to  modefty,  your  indolence  in  combating 
them  has  not  been  criminal ;  and  if  the  efforts  which  you 
afterwards  made,  were  not  an  artifice  of  felf-love,  in  order 
to  difguife  their  criminalty,  and  quiet  you  on  the  indul- 
gence you  had  already  yielded  to  your  crimes  ?  W'ho  would 
dare  to  determine,  if,  in  thefe  fecret  antipathies  and  ani- 
mofities,  which  you  give  yourfelves  but  little  trouble  to 
reftrain,  (and  that  always  more  for  the  fake  of  appearances 
than  through  piety,)  you  have  never  exceeded  that  flippery 
line,  beyond  which  dwell  hatred,  and  death  to  the  foul  ! 
If,  in  that  excefs  of  fenfibility,  wThich  in  general  accompa- 
nies all  your  afflictions,  infirmities,  lofTes,  and  difgraces, 
thofe  which  you  call  feelings,  attached  and  inevitable  to  na- 
ture, are  not  irregularities  of  the  hearty  and  a  revolt  againft 
the  decrees  of  Providence  ?  If,  in  all  thofe  attentions,  and 
eagcrnefTes    with  which  we  fee  you  occupied,  to  manage 

either 


Il6  SERMON    IV, 

cither  the  interefls  of  your  worldly  affairs,  or  the  preserva- 
tion of  a  vain  beauty,  there  is  not  either  as  much  forward  - 
nefs  as  may  amount  to  the  crime  of  illegal  ambition,  or 
complaifance  for  yourfelf,  and  defire  of  pleafing,  as  may 
fully  your  heart  with  the  guilt  of  fenfuality  ?  Great  God ! 
who  haft  well  difcerned,  as  thy  fervant  Job  formerly  re- 
marked, the  fatal  limits  which  feparate  life  from  death,  and 
light  from  darknefs,  in  the  heart  ;  thefe  are  the  gulfs  and 
abyffes  over  which  mankind,  little  inftru&ed  in  them,  muff, 
tremble  ;  and  of  which  Thou  referveft  the  manifefiation 
till  the  terrible  day  of  they  vengeance  fhall  arrive.  Second 
reafon,  drawn  from  the  uncertainty  of  the  rules,  which 
leaves  the  ftate  of  a  lukewarm  foul  very  fufpicious,  and 
even  renders  it  incapable  of  knowing  itfelf. 

But  a  final  reafon,  which  to  me  appears  frill  more  deci- 
five,  and  more  dreadful  to  the  lukewarm  foul,  is  there  not 
being  an  appearance  from  which  we  can  prefume,  that  it 
ffill  preferves  the  fanclifying  grace;  on  the  contrary,  eve- 
ry thing  induces  us  to  fuppofe  it  forfeited  ;  that  is  to  fay, 
that  of  all  the  fymptoms,  of  an  habitual  and  living  charity, 
there  is  not  a  veftige  of  one  in  it. 

For,  my  brethren,  the  firft  character  of  charity  is  to  fill 
us  with  that  fpirit  of  adoption  in  children,  which  leads  us 
to  love  God  as  our  heavenly  Father,  to  love  his  law,  and 
the  juftice  of  his  commandments ;  and  to  dread  the  forfeit- 
ure of  his  love,  more  than  all  the  evils  with  which  he 
threatens  us. 

Now,  the  attention  alone  with  which  a  lukewarm  foul 
examines  whether  an  offence  be  venial,  or  extends  further  ; 
of  difputing  with  God  every  article  he  may  refufe  him, 
without  aclual  guilt ;  of  ftudying  the  law,  only  for  the  pur- 

pofe 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS. 


Il7 


pofe  of  knowing  to  what  degree  it  may  be  violated  ;  of  un- 
ceafingly  preferring  the  interefh  of  his  own  cupidity  to 
thofe  of  grace  ;  and  always  juftifying  thofe  things  which 
flatter  the  paflions,  in  oppofition  to  the  rules  which  check 
or  forbid  them  ;  this  attention,  I  fay  can  only  proceed 
from  a  heart  deftitute  of  faith  and  charity  ;  from  a  heart  in 
which  the  Spirit  of  God,  that  fpirit  of  love  and  kindnefs, 
apparently  no  longer  reigns.  For  no  children  but  the  prodi- 
gal, are  capable  of  quibbling  in  this  manner  with  their  father 
and  protector  ;  of  exercifing  to  the  utmofl  length  of  feveri- 
ty  any  claims  they  may  have,  and  of  feizing  all  they  may 
think  themfelves  entitled  to. 

Now,  in  order  to  give  this  reflection  all  its  weight  :  That 
difpofition,  which  deliberately  allows  itfelf  every  infidelitv, 
which  will  not,  it  believes,  be  followed  by  eternal  punifh- 
ment,  is  the  difpofition  of  a  flave  and  hireling;  that  is  to 
fay,  that  could  they  promife  themfelves  the  fame  impunity 
and  indulgence  from  the  Almighty,  for  the  tranfgreflion  of 
the  eflential  points  of  the  law,  they  would  violate  them 
with  the  fame  difference  as  they  violate  the  leaft  ;  for,  were 
cruel  and  avowed  revenge,  calumny  of  the  blackefl  nature, 
and  criminal  attachments,  to  be  attended  in  futurity  with 
no  worfe  confequences  than  flight  and  momentary  refent- 
ments,  accidental  and  carelefs  evil-fpeaking,  or  too  much 
felf-love,  they  would  feel  no  more  horror  in  the  commiflion 
of  the  former,  than  the  laft  mentioned  crimes  ;  that  is  to 
fay,  that  when  faithful  to  the  commandments,  it  is  not  from 
a  love  of  righteoufnefs,  but  the  dread  of  that  punifhment, 
which  would  attend  their  infraction ;  it  is  not  to  order  and 
to  the  law  that  they  fubmit  themfelves,  it  is  to  their  chaf- 
tifements ;  it  is  not  the  Lord  they  have  in  view,  it  is  them- 
felves :  For  while  his  glory  alone  is  interefted,  and  no  feri- 
ous  confequences  may  be  expected  to  follow  our  infideli- 
ties, 


Il8  SERMON     IV, 

ties,  from  their  apparent  flightnefs,  we  are  not  afraid  of 
difpleafing  him  ;  we  even  juftify  to  ourfelves  in  fecret  thefe 
kind  of  tranfgreflions,  by  faying,  that  notwithstanding 
they  offend,  and  are  difpleafing  to  the  Lord,  yet  they  bring 
not  death,  nor  eternal  punifhment  to  the  foul  :  We  are 
not  affe£ted  by  what  regards  only  him  ;  his  glory  goes  for 
nothing  in  the  diftinclion  we  make  betwixt  actions  allowed 
or  forbidden  ;  our  intereft  alone  regulates  our  fidelity  ;  and 
nothing  can  warm  our  coldnefs,  but  the  dread  of  everlaft- 
ing  punifhment.  We  are  even  delighted  at  the  impunity 
of  thofe  trivial  tranfgreflions  ;  of  being  able  to  gratify  our 
inclinations,  without  any  greater  misfortune  attending,  than 
the  difpleafure  of  the  Almighty  :  We  love  this  wretched  liber- 
ty, which  feems  to  leave  us  the  right  of  being  unpunifhed, 
though  unfaithful  :  We  are  the  apologifls  of  it ;  we  carry 
it  even  further,  than  in  reality  it  goes  :  We  wifh  all  to  be 
venial ;  gaming,  drefs,  fenfual  pleafures,  pafiion,  animofi- 
ties,  public  fpe&acles,  what  fhall  I  fay  ?  We  would  wifh 
this  freedom  to  be  univerfal ;  that  nothing  which  gratifies 
our  appetites  fhould  be  punifhed ;  that  the  Almighty  were 
neither  juft,  nor  the  avenger  of  iniquity  ;  and  that  we 
might  vield  ourfelves  up  to  the  gratification  of  every  paf- 
fion,  and  violate  the  fanftity  of  his  law,  without  any  dread 
of  the  feverity  of  his  juflice.  Provided  a  lukewarm  foul 
will  defcend  to  an  examination  of  itfelf,  it  will  feel,  that 
this  is  truly  the  principle  of  its  heart,  and  its  real  difpofi- 
tion. 

Now,  I  afk  you,  is  this  the  fituation  of  a  foul  in  which 
the  fanQifying  charity  and  grace  is  flill  preferved ;  that  is 
to  fay,  a  foul  which  loves  its  Maker  more  than  the  world, 
more  than  all  created  beings,  more  than  all  pleafures  or 
riches,  more  than  itfelf  ?  Of  a  foul  which  can  feel  no  joy 
but  in  his  poiTeflion  ;  which  dreads  only  his  lofs,  and  knows 

no 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  H9 

no  misfortune  but  that  of  his  difpleafure  ?  Does  the 
charity  you  flatter  yourfelves  ft i  1 1  to  preferve,  feek, 
in  this  manner,  its  proper  intereft  ?  Does  it  regard,  as 
nothing,  the  difpleafure  of  him  it  loves,  provided  its  infi- 
delities remain  unpunifhed  ?  Doe3  it  think  of  difputing, 
like  you,  every  day,  to  what  degree  it  may  fafely  offend 
him,  in  order  to  take  its  meafures  accordingly,  and  then 
allow  itfelf  every  tranfgreffion,  to  which  impunity  is 
attached  :  Does  it  fee  nothing  amiable  in  its  God,  or 
capable  of  attaching  the  heart,  but  his  chaflifements  ?  Were 
he  not  even  an  Almighty  and  an  avenging  God,  would  it 
be  lefs  affected  by  his  infinite  mercies,  his  truth,  holinefs, 
wifdom,  fatherly  tendernefs,  and  protection  ?  Ah  !  luke- 
warm and  infidel  foul,  Thou  loveft  him  no  longer :  Thou 
loveft,  thou  liveft  only  for  thyfelf.  The  fmall  remains  of 
fidelity,  which  ftill  keep  thee  from  fin,  are  nothing  but  a 
fund  of  floth,  timidity,  and  felf-love.  Thou  wifheft 
to  live  in  peace  with  thyfelf:  Thou  dreadeft the  embarraff- 
ments  of  a  paffion,  and  the  remorfe  of  a  fullied  confci- 
ence  :  iniquity  is  become  a  fatigue,  and  that  alone  difpleafes 
thee  with  it  :  Thou  loveft  thine  own  eafe  ;  and  that  is 
thy  fole  religion  :  Indolence  is  the  only  barrier  which  flops 
thee,  and  all  thy  virtue  is  limited  to  thyfelf.  Affuredly, 
thou  wouldefl  wifh  to  know,  whether  this  infidelity  be  a 
venial  tranfgreffion,  or  if  it  extends  further.  Thou  ac- 
knowledged., that  it  difpleafes  God,  (i'or  that  point  admits 
of  no  doubt,)  yet  is  that  not  fufncient  to  turn  thee  from  it  ? 
Thou  wouldefl  wifh  to  know,  whether  it  fo  far  difpleafes 
him,  as  to  provoke  his  evcrlafting  wrath  ?  Ah  !  Thou  feeft 
very  well,  that  this  invefligation  tends  to  nothing  by  thyfelf  ; 
that  thy  difpofition  leads  thee  to  think  guilt  nothing,  as  an 
offence,  and  a  difpleafure  to  God  ;  a  powerful  reafon, 
however,  why  it  fhould  be  deteftable  to  thee  :  That  thou 

no 


120  SERMON      IV. 

no  longer  ferveft  the  Lord  in  truth  and  in  charity  ;  that  thy 
pretended  virtue  is  only  a  natural  timidity  ;  which  dare  not 
expofe  itfelf  to  the  terrible  threatenings  of  the  law  ;  that 
thou  art  nothing  but  a  vile  and  wretched  flave,  to  reftrain 
whom,  it  is  neceffary  to  keep  fcourges  continually  in  thy 
fight  :  that  thou  refembleft  that  unfaithful  fervant,  who  fe- 
creted  his  talent,  becaufe  he  knew  that  his  mailer  was  fe- 
vere  ;  and,  but  for  that  reafon,  would  have  wafted  it  indif- 
fipation  ;  and  that  in  the  preparation  of  the  heart,  to  which 
alone  the  Almighty  looketh,  thou  hateft  his  law  :  Thou 
loveft  every  thing  it  forbids  :  Thou  art  no  longer  in  chari- 
ty :  Thou  art  a  child  of  death  and  perdition. 

The  fecond  character  of  charity  is  to  be  timorous,  and 
to  magnify  to  ourfelves  our  fmalleft  deviations :  not  that 
charity  deceives  or  conceals  from  us  the  truth  ;  but  difen- 
gaging  the  foul  from  the  fenfes,  it  purifies  our  view  of 
faith,  and  renders  it  more  quick-figbted  in  fpiritual  affairs  ; 
and  befides,  whatever  is  in  the  fmalleft  degree  difpleafing 
to  the  only  objecl:  of  our  love,  appears  ferious  and  confi- 
derable  to  the  foul  which  loves.  Thus  charity  is  always 
humble,  timid,  and  diftruftful  of  itfelf;  unceafingly  agi- 
tated by  its  pious  perplexities,  which  leave  it  in  fufpenfe 
refpecling  its  real  ftate,  always  alarmed  by  thofe  delicacies 
of  grace,  which  make  it  tremble  at  every  aclion  ;  which 
make  a  kind  of  martyrdom  of  love,  from  the  uncertainty 
in  which  they  leave  it  ;  and  by  which,  however,  it  is  pu- 
rified. Thefe  are  not  the  vain  and  puerile  fcruples,  which 
we  blame  in  weak  minds  :  They  are  thofe  pious  fears  of 
charity  and  of  grace,  infeparable  from  every  faithful  and 
religious  foul  :  It  works  its  falvation  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling ;  and  even  frequently  regards  as  crimes,  aclions, 
which  are  often  virtues  in  the  fight  of  God  ;  and  which  at 
moll,  can  only  be  regarded  as  fimple  weakneffes. 

Thcfe 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  121 

Thefe  are  the  holy  perplexities  of  chanty,  which  derive 
their  fource  even  i'rom  the  lights  of  faith.  This  path  has, 
in  all  ages,  been  the  path  of  the juft. 

Yet  neverthelefs  it  is  that  pretended  charity,  of  which 
in  the  midfl  of  a  vicious  life,  and  of  all  your  infidelities, 
you  believe  yourfelves  ftill  poireffed,  that  makes  them  ap- 
pear flight  to  you  :  It  is  that  charity  itfelf,  which  you  fup- 
pofe  not  to  have  loft,  that  comforts  and  encourages  you  ; 
that  diminilhes  your  faults  in  your  own  fight,  and  fixes  you 
in  a  ftate  of  peace  and  fecurity  :  In  a  word,  that  not  only 
banifhes  from  your  heart  all  thofe  pious  alarms,  infeparable 
from  real  piety,  but  makes  you  regard  them  as  weaknefTes, 
and  even  the  exceffes  of  piety.  Now  tell  me,  I  beg  of 
you,  is  not  that  an  inconfiftency  ?  Does  charity  contradict 
itfelf  in  that  manner  ?  Or  can  you  place  much  depend- 
ence on  a  love,  which  fo  nearly  refembles  hatred  ? 

The  laft  character  of  charity,  is  to  be  active  and  dili- 
gent in  the  ways  of  God.  We  find  how  much  the  Apof- 
tle  dwells  on  its  activity  and  fecundity  in  the  heart  of  a 
Chriftian  :  It  operates  wherever  it  is  ;  it  cannot,  fay  the 
faints,  be  idle  :  It  is  a  celeftial  fire,  which  no  power  can 
hinder  from  (hewing  itfelf,  and  from  a£ling  :  It  may  fome- 
times  indeed  be  overwhelmed,  and  greatly  weakened,  by 
the  multitude  of  our  weaknefTes,  but,  while  not  entirely 
extinguifhed,  there  always  proceed  from  it,  as  I  may  fay, 
fome  fparks  of  fighs,  wifhes,  lamentations,  efforts,  and 
deeds.  The  Holy  Sacrament  reanimates  it,  prayer  aroufea 
it;  pious  reading,  affliction,  difgrace,  bodily  infirmity,  all 
rekindle  it,  when  not  utterly  extinguifhed.  It  is  men- 
tioned in  the  fecond  book  of  the  Maccabees,  that  the  fa- 
cred  fire,  which  the  Jews  had  concealed  during  their  cap- 
tivity, was  found  at  their  return  apparently  extinct.     But 

Vol.  I.  Q  as 


122  SERMON     IV. 

as  the  furface  alone  was  obfcured,  and  the  facred  fire  ftill 
internally  preferred  all  its  virtue,  fcarcely  was  it  expofed 
to  the  rays  of  the  fun,  when  they  faw  it  inftantaneoufly 
rekindle,  and  prefent  to  their  fight  a  brightnefs  altogether 
new,  and  an  activity  altogether  aftonifhing. 

Behold,  my  brethren,  a  faithful  reprefentation  of  the 
coldnefs,  of  a  truly  juft  foul  ;  and  which  likewife  would 
be  your  cafe,  had  the  multitude  of  your  infidelities  done 
no  more  than  cover  and  relax,  as  I  may  fay,  without  ex- 
tinguifhing  the  facred  fire  of  charity  within  you  :  Behold, 
I  fay,  what  ought  to  be  your  fituation,  when  you  ap- 
proach the  Holy  Sacrament,  or  liften  to  the  word  of  God. 
When  Jefus  Chrift,  the  Sun  of  Righteoufnefs,  darts  upon 
you  fome  rays  of  his  grace  and  light,  and  infpires  you  with 
holy  defires,  your  heart  ought  then  to  be  feen  rekindled, 
and  your  fervour  renewed  :  You  then  ought  to  appear  all 
fire  and  animation  in  the  praclice  of  your  duty,  and  afton- 
iih  even  the  moft  confident  witneiTes  of  your  former  life, 
by  the  renovation  of  your  morals  and  zeal, 

Alas!  nothing,  however,  reanimates  you.  Even  the  ho- 
ly Sacrament  leaves  you  all  your  coldnefs  :  The  words  of 
the  gofpel  which  you  liften  to,  fall  upon  your  heart,  like 
corn  upon  a  fterile  land,  where  it  immediately  dies  :  The 
fentiments  of  falvation,  which  grace  operates  within  you, 
are  never  followed  with  any  effeft,  in  the  melioration  of 
your  morals ;  you  continually  drag  on  in  the  fame  indo- 
lence and  languor  ;  you  depart  from  the  holy  altar  equally 
cold,  equally  in'fenfible,  as  you  approached  it  :  We  fee 
not  in  you  thefe  renewals  of  zeal,  piety,  and  fervour,  fo 
common  in  juft  fouls,  and  of  which  the  motives  are  to  be 
found  in  their  deviations  from  duty.  What  you  were  yef- 
terday,  you  are  to-day :    The  fame  infidelities,  the  fame 

weaknefles ; 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  12 § 

weaknefles  :  You  advance  not  a  (ingle  ftep  in  the  road  to 
falvation  ;  all  the  fire  of  heaven  could  fcarcely  rekindle 
in  the  bottom  of  your  heart  this  pretended  charity,  upon 
which  you  depend  fo  much.  Ah !  my  dear  hearer,  how 
much  I  dread  that  it  is  extin£l,  and  that  you  are  dead  in 
the  fight  of  the  Lord  !  I  wifh  not  to  anticipate  the  fecret 
judgments  of  God  upon  the  confciences  ;  but  I  mult  tell 
you,  that  your  ftate  is  very  far  from  being  fafe  ;  I  even 
tell  you,  that  if  we  are  to  judge  by  the  rules  of  faith,  you 
are  in  difgrace  with,  and  hated  of  the  Lord  :  I  tell  you  like- 
wife,  that  a  coldnefs  fo  durable  and  conftant,  cannot  fub- 
fift  with  a  principle  of  heavenly  and  eternal  life,  which 
always,  from  time  to  time  at  leaft,  betrays  external  move- 
ments and  figns,  raifes,  animates  itfelf,  and  takes  wing, 
as  if  to  difengage  itfelf  from  the  fhackles  which  weigh 
it  down  ;  and  that  a  charity  fo  mute,  fo  indolent,  and  fo 
conftantly  infenfible,  exifts  no  more. 

But  the  great  danger  of  this  ftate,  my  brethren,  is,  that 
a  lukewarm  foul  is  fo  without  fcruple  :  It  feels  that  it 
might  carry  its  fervour  and  fidelity  to  a  much  greater 
length,  but  it  looks  upon  that  zeal,  and  that  exactitude,,  as 
a  perfection,  and  a  grace,  referved  only  for  certain  fouls, 
and  not  as  a  general  duty  ;  in  this  manner  they  fix  them- 
felves  in  that  degree  of  coldnefs  into  which  they  are  fallen  ; 
they  have  not  made,  nor  fcarcely  attempted,  the  fmalleft 
progrefs  in  virtue,  fince  the  ardours  of  converfion.  It 
would  appear,  that  having  exhaufted  all  their  fervour 
againft  the  criminal  paflions  with  which  they  had  at  firft  to 
combat,  they  imagine,  that  nothing  now  remains,  but  to 
enjoy  in  peace  the  fruits  of  their  viclory  ;  a  thoufand  da- 
mages which  ftili  remain  from  their  firfl  fhipwreck,  they 
think  no  more  of  repairing:  So  far  from  endeavouring  to 
reprefs  a  thoufand  weakneffes,  and  corrupted  inclinations, 

left 


124 


SERMON     IV. 


left  them  by  their  firft  irregularities,  they  love  and  cherim 
them.  The  Holy  Sacrament  no  longer  reanimates  or  invi- 
gorates their  faith  ;  it  only  amufes  it.  Converfion  is  no 
longer  the  end  they  propofe  ;  they  believe  it  already  done  : 
And,  alas  !  their  confeffions  even  to  the  Almighty,  are 
more  for  the  purpofe  of  amufing  and  lulling  their  confci- 
ences,  than  the  effe&s  of  piety,  and  real  contrition. 

We  impofe  greatly  upon  ourfelves,  my  brethren,  with 
regard  to  our  confciences  reproaching  us  with  nothing  cri- 
minal ;  for  we  fee  not,  that  it  is  even  that  tranquillity 
which  conflitutes  the  danger,  and  perhaps  the  guilt  like- 
wife  of  it.  We  believe  ourfelves  in  fecurity  in  our  ftate, 
becaufe  it  perhaps  offers  to  our  fight  more  innocence  and 
regularity,  than  that  of  disorderly  fouls  ;  and  indeed,  we 
wiili  not  to  conceive  how  a  life  purely  natural,  mould  not 
be  a  life  of  grace  and  of  faith  ;  or  that  a  ftate  of  habitual 
idlenefs  and  fenfual  gratification,  fhould  be  a  ftate  of  fin 
and  death,  in  a  Chriftian  life. 

Thus,  my  dear  hearer,  you  whom  this  difcourfe  regards, 
reanimate  yourfelf  without  ceafing  in  the  fpirit  of  your 
vocation ;  according  to  the  advice  of  the  Apoftle,  raife 
yourfelf  every  day  by  prayer,  by  mortification  of  the 
fenfes,  by  vigilance  over  your  paffions,  and  by  a  continual 
retrofpeclion  to,  and  inveftigation  of  your  own  heart  ; 
that  firft  grace,  which  operates  to  draw  you  from  the  errors 
and  wanderings  of  the  world,  and  make  you  enter  into  the 
paths  of  God.  Depend  upon  it,  that  piety  has  nothing 
fure  or  confoling  but  fidelity  ;  that  in  relaxing  from  it, 
you  only  augment  your  troubles,  becaufe  you  multiply 
your  bonds ;  that  in  retrenching  from  your  duty,  zeal, 
fervour  and  exaftitude,  you  likewife  retrench  all  its  fweets 
and  pleafures ;  that  in  depriving  your  ftate  of  fidelity,  you 

deprive 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  1<a$ 

deprive  it  of  fecurity  ;  and  that  in  limiting  yourfelf,  fim- 
ply  to  ihun  iniquity,  you  lofe  the  moft  precious  fruits  of 
virtue. 

And  after  all,  fince  you  have  already  facrificed  the  ef- 
fential,  why  will  you  ftill  attach  yourfelves  to  the  frivolous 
parts  ?  After  having  accomplished  the  moft  laborious  and 
painful  exertions  towards  falvation,  muft  you  perifhfornot 
finifhing  the  flighteft  and  moft  eafy  ?  When  Naaman,  little 
convinced,  becaufe  the  prophet,  for  the  cure  of  his  lepro- 
fy,  had  only  ordered  him  to  bath  in  the  waters  of  Jordan, 
retired  full  of  contempt  for  the  man  of  God,  and  believ- 
ing it  impoffible  that  his  recovery  could  be  accomplished 
by  fo  fimple  a  remedy,  the  people  who  accompanied  him 
made  him  fenfible  of  his  error,  by  faying  to  him,  "  But, 
«'  mailer,  had  the  prophet  bid  thee  do  fome  great  thing, 
"  wouldeft  thou  not  have  done  it  ?  How  much  rather  then, 
"  when  he  faith  to  thee,  wafh  and  be  clean  ?" 

And  now,  my  brethren,  attend  to  what  I  have  to  fay, 
while  I  finifti  this  difcourfe.  You  have  abandoned  the 
world,  and  the  idols  which  you  formerly  worshipped  in  it : 
You  are  come  from  afar  into  the  paths  of  God  :  You  have 
had  fo  many  paflions  to  overcome,  and  obftacles  to  fur- 
mount  ;  fo  many  things  to  facrifice,  and  difficult  exertions 
to  make  ;  there  remains  only  one  ftep  more  to  accomplifh, 
which  is  a  faithful  and  conftant  vigilance  over  yourfelves. 
If  a  facrifice  of  the  criminal  paflions  were  not  already  made, 
and  you  were  required  to  do  it,  you  would  not,  I  believe, 
hefitate  a  moment  ;  coft  what  it  might,  you  would  make 
it  :  And  in  the  meanwhile,  when  fimple  purifications  are 
only  demanded  of  you  ;  nay,  when  you  are  required  as  I 
may  fay,  almoft  the  fame  things  which  you  do,  but  only 
to  be  pra&ifed  with  more  fervour,  fidelity,  faith,  and  vigi- 
lance, 


1*6  SERMON     IV. 

lance,  are  yoQ  excufable  in  declining  them  ?  Why  will 
you  render  ufelefs  all  your  former  efforts,  by  the  refufal  ot 
a  thing  fo  eafy  ?  Why  fhould  you  have  renounced  the 
world,  and  all  its  criminal  pleafures,  only  to  find  in  piety 
the  fame  rock,  which  by  flying  from  fin  you  thought  to 
have  efcaped  ?  And  would  it  not  be  lamentable,  if,  after 
having  facrificed  to  God  the  principal  parts,  you  fhould 
lofe  yourfelves,  by  wifhing  ftill  to  difpute  with  him  a  thou- 
fand  little  facrifices,  much  lefs  painful  to  the  heart  and  to 
nature. 

Finifh  then  in  us,  O  my  God  !  that  which  thy  grace  has 
already  begun ;  triumph  over  our  languors,  and  our  weak- 
neffefs,  fince  thou  haft  already  triumphed  over  our  crimes  ; 
give  us  a  heart  feryent  and  faithful,  fince  thou  haft  already 
deprived  us  of  a  criminal  and  corrupted  one ;  infpire  us 
with  that  willing  fubmifhon  which  the  juft  pofTefs,  fince 
thou  haft  extinguifhed  in  us  that  pride  and  obftinacy 
which  occafion  fo  many  finners :  Leave  not,  O  my  God  ! 
thy  work  unfinifhed  ;  and  fince  thou  haft  already  made  us 
enter  into  the  holy  career  of  falvation,  render  us  worthy 
of  the  holy  crown  promifed  to  thofe  who  fhall  have  legally 
fought  for  it. 

Now  to  God,  See.     Amen. 


SERMON 


SERMON  V. 

THE  CERTAINTY  OF  THE  LOSS  OF  RIGHTEOUS 
NESS  IN  A  STATE  OF  LUKEfVARMNESS. 


Luke  iv.  38. 
And  he  rofe  out  of  the  Synagogue,  and  entered  into  Si- 
mon's houfe  :  and  Simon's  wife's  mother  was  taken  with  a 
great  fever :  and  they  befought  him  for  her, 

i^ince  Simon  thought  the  prefence  of  our  Saviour  necef- 
fary  for  the  cure  of  his  mother-in-law,  it  would  appear  my* 
brethren,  that  the  evil  was  preffing,  and  threatened  an  ap- 
proaching death  ;  the  ufual  remedies  muft  have  been  found 
ineffectual,  and  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  operate  her 
cure,  and  draw  her  from  the  gates  of  death:  Neverthelefs, 
the  Scriptures  mention  her  being  attacked  by  only  a  com- 
mon fever.  On  every  other  occafion,  we  never  find  that 
they  had  recourfe  to  our  Saviour,  but  to  raife  people  from 
the  grave,  to  cure  paralytics,  reftore  fight  to  the  blind,  and 
hearing  to  the  deaf,  from  their  birth  :  In  a  word,  to  cure 
difeafes,  incurable  by  any  other,  than  the  Sovereign  Maf- 
ter  of  Life  and  Death  :  In  this  inftance,  he  is  called  upon, 
to  reftore  health  to  a  perfon  attacked  by  a  fnnple  fever. 

Whence  comes  it,  that  the  Almighty  Power  is  employ- 
ed on  fo  flight  an  occafion  ?  It  is,  that  this  fever  being  a 
natural  image  of  lukewarmnefs  in  the  ways  of  God,  the 

Holy 


128  SERMON     V, 

Holy  Spirit  has  wifhed  to  make  us  underiland  by  it,  that 
this  difeafe  apparently  fo  flight,  and  of  which  they  dread 
not  the  danger ;  this  lukewarmnefs,  fo  common  in  piety,  is 
a  difeafe,  which  inevitably  defiroys  the  foul,  and  that  a 
miracle  is  neceflary  to  refcue  it  from  death. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  of  all  the  maxims  of  Chriftian  mo- 
rality, there  is  none  upon  which  experience  allows  us  lefs 
to  deceive  ourfelves,  than  the  one  which  aflures  us,  that 
contempt  for  the  fmallefl  points  of  our  duty  infenfibly  leads 
us  to  a  tranfgreflion  of  the  mod  efTential  ;  and  that,  negli- 
gence in  the  ways  of  God  is  never  far  from  a  total  lofs  of 
righteoufnefs.  He  who  defpifes  the  fmaller  objects  of  re- 
ligion, fays  the  Holy  Spirit,  will  gradually  fall ;  he  who 
defpifes  them,  that  is  to  fay,  who  deliberately  violates  them  ; 
who  lays  down  as  it  were,  a  plan  of  this  conduct;  for,  if 
through  weaknefs  or  furprife  you  fail  in  them  fometimes, 
it  is  the  common  deftiny  of  the  juft,  and  this  difcourfe 
would  no  longer  regard  you  ;  but  to  defpife  them  in  the 
fenfc  already  mentioned,  which  can  happen  only  with  luke- 
warm and  unfaithful  fouls,  is  a  path  which  mud  terminate 
in  the  lofs  of  righteoufnefs.  In  the  firfl;  place,  becaufe  the 
fpecial  grace  neceffary  towards  perfeverance  in  virtue  is 
no  longer  granted.  Secondly,  Becaufe  the  paflions  are 
flrengthened  which  lead  us  on  to  vice.  Thirdly,  Becaufe 
all  the  external  fuccours  of  piety  become  ufelefs. 

Let  us  inveRigate  thefe  three  reflections  :  They  contain 
important  inflruftions  in  the  detail  of  a  Chriftian  lite  : 
Ufeful,  not  only  to  thofe  who  make  profeffion  of  a  public 
and  avowed  piety,  but  likewife  to  thofe  who  make  all  vir- 
tue to  confift  in  that  regularity  of  conduct,  and  propriety  of 
behaviour,  which  even  the  world  requires. 

Part 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  129 

Part  I. — It  is  a  truth  of  falvation,  fays  a  holy  Father, 
that  the  innocence  of  even  the  moit  upright  has  occafion 
for  the  continual  afliflance  of  grace.  Man,  delivered  up 
to  fin,  by  the  wickednefs  of  his  nature,  no  longer  finds  in 
himfelf  but  principles  of  error,  and  fources  of  corruption  : 
Righteoufnefs  and  truth,  originally  born  with  us,  are  now 
become  as  ftrangers  ;  all  our  inclinations,  revolted  againfi 
God  and  his  law,  in  fpite  of  ourfelves,  drag  us  on  towards 
illicit  objefts ;  in  fo  much,  that  to  return  to  the  law,  and 
fubmit  our  heart  to  order,  it  is  neceflary  to  refill,  without 
ceafing,  the  impreffions  of  the  fenfes  ;  to  break  our  warm- 
eit  inclinations,  and  to  harden  ourfelves  continually  againfi 
ourfelves.  There  is  no  duty  but  what  now  cofts  us 
fomething ;  no  precept  in  the  law,  but  combats  fome  of 
our  paflions ;  no  ftep  in  the  paths  of  God  againft  which 
our  heart  does  not  revolt. 

To  this  load  of  corruption,  which  renders  duty  fo  diffi- 
cult and  irkfome,  and  iniquity  fo  natural,  add  the  fnares 
which  furround  us,  the  examples  which  entice  us,  the  ob- 
jects which  effeminate  us,  the  occafions  which  furprife  us, 
the  compliances  which  weaken  us,  the  afflictions  which 
difcourage  us,  the  properties  which  corrupt  us,  the  fitua- 
tions  which  blind  us,  and  the  contradictions  which  we  ex- 
perience ;  every  thing  around  us  is  indeed  only  one  con- 
tinued temptation.  I  fpeak  not  of  the  miferies  which  are 
natural  to  us;  or  the  particular  oppofition  to  order  and 
'righteoufnefs,  which  our  pafl  morals,  and  ourfirft  paflions 
have  left  in  our  hearts  :  That  love  for  the  world  and  its 
pleafures  ;  that  diflike  to  virtue  and  its  maxims;  that  em- 
pire of  the  fenfes,  fortified  by  a  voluptuous  life  ;  that  in- 
vincible indolence,  to  which  every  thing  is  a  burden,  and 
to  which  whatever  is  a  burden,  becomes  almofl  impoffible  ; 
that  pride,  which  knows  neither  how  to  bend  or  break  ; 

Vol  I.  R  that 


130  SERMON     V, 

that  inconftancy  of  heart,  incapable  of  end  or  uniformity, 
which  prcfently  tires  of  itfelf ;  which  cannot  fubmit  to 
rule,  becaufe  that  it  is  always  the  fame;  which  wifhes,  and 
wifhes  not ;  paries  in  a  moment  from  the  loweft  ftate  of  de- 
jecliori,  to  a  vain  and  childifh  joy,  and  leaves  fcarcely  the 
interval  of  a  moment  betwixt  the  fincereft  refolution,  and 
the  infidelity  which  violates  it. 

Now,  in  a  fituation  fo  miferable,  what,  O  my  God !  can 
the  moft  juft  accomplifh,  delivered  up  to  his  own  weak- 
nefs,  and  all  the  fnares  which  furround  him;  bearing  in  his 
heart  the  fource  of  all  his  errors,  and  in  his  mind  the  prin- 
ciples of  every  illufion  ?  The  grace  of  Jefus  Chrift,  there- 
fore, can  alone  deliver  him  from  fo  many  miferies  ;  en- 
lighten him  in  the  midft  of  fo  much  darknefs  ;  fupport  him 
under  fo  many  difficulties  ;  reftrain  him  from  following  the 
dictates  of  fo  many  rapid  defires,  and  strengthen  him 
againft  fo  many  attacks.  If  left  a  moment  to  himfelf,  he 
inevitably  ftumbles,  and  is  loft :  If  an  Almighty  hand  cea- 
fes  an  inftant  to  retain  him,  he  is  carried  down  by  the 
flream  :  Our  confiftency  in  virtue,  is  therefore  a  continual 
grace  and  miracle ;  all  our  fteps  in  the  ways  of  God  are 
new  motions  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  that  is  to  fay,  of  that  in- 
vifible  guide,  which  impels  and  leads  us  on.  All  our  pious 
actions  are  gifts  of  divine  mercy  ;  fince  every  proper  ufe 
of  our  liberty  comes  from  him,  and  he  crowns  his  gifts  in 
recompcnfing  our  merits  :  All  the  moments  of  our  Chriftian 
life  are  like  a  new  creation,  therefore,  in  faith,  and  in 
piety  ;  that  is  to  fay,  (this  fpiritual  creation  does  nor  :fup- 
pofe  a  non-exiftence  in  the  juft,  but  a  principle  of  grace, 
and  a  liberty  which  co-operates  with  it,)  that  as,  in  the 
order  of  nature,  wre  fhould  again  return  to  our  non-entity, 
if  the  Creator  ceafed  an  inftant  to  preferve  die  being  he 
has  given  us ;  in  the  life  of  grace,  we  would  again  fall 

into 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  131 

into  fin  and  death,  did  the  Redeemer  ceafe  a  fingle  mo- 
ment to  continue,  by  new  fuccours,  the  gift  of  righteouf-v 
nefs  andholinefs,  with  which  he  hath  embellifhed  our  foul : 
Such  is  the  weaknefs  of  man,  and  fuch  is  his  continual  de- 
pendence on  the  grace  of  Jefus  Chrift.  The  fidelity  of  the 
juft  foul  is,  therefore,  the  fruit  of  continual  aids  of  grace  ; 
but  it  is  likewife  the  principle :  It  is  grace  alone  which 
can  operate  the  fidelity  of  the  juft  ;  and  it  is  the  fidelity 
alone  of  thejuft,  which  merits  the  prefervation  and  increafe 
of  grace  in  the  heart. 

For,  my  brethren,  the  ways  of  God  towards  us  being 
full  of  equity  and  wifdom,  there  mull  neceflarily  be  fome 
order  in  the  diftribution  of  his  gifts  and  grace  :  The  Lord 
mull  communicate  himfelf  more  abundantly  to  the  foul, 
which  faithfully  prepares  its  heart  for  his  ways ;  he  mull 
bellow  more  continual  marks  of  his  protection  and  mercy 
on  the  upright  heart,  which  gives  him  conftant  proof  of 
love  and  fidelity  ;  and  the  fervant  who  improves  his  talent, 
mull  necefTarily  be  recompenfed  in  proportion  to  the  profit 
he  has  known  how  to  reap  from  it :  It  is  juft  on  the  con* 
trary,  that  a  lukewarm  and  unfaithful  heart,  who  ferves  his 
God  with  negligence  and  difguft,  mould  find  the  Almighty 
cold  and  difgufted  towards  him  :  The  mifery  inseparable 
from  coldnefs,  is,  therefore,  the  privation  of  the  grace  of 
protection.  If  you  become  cold,  the  Almighty  becomes 
fo  towards  you  ;  if  you  limit  yourfelf  with  regard  to  him, 
to  thofe  efTential  duties,  which  you  cannot  refufehim  with- 
out guilt,  he  confines  himfelf  with  regard  to  you,  to  thofe 
general  fuccours,  which  will  not  fupport  you  far :  He  re- 
tires from  you,  in  proportion  as  you  retire  from  him  ;  and 
the  meafure  of  fidelity  with  which  you  ferve  him,  is  the 
meafure  of  protection  you  may  expect  to  receive. 

Nothing 


13»  SERMON     V. 

Nothing  can  be  more  equitable  than  this  conduct ;  for 
you  enter  into  judgment  with  your  God.  You  neglect 
every  opportunity  where  you  might  give  him  proofs  of 
your  fidelity:  You  difpute  every  thing  with  him,  of  which 
you  think  you  could  avoid  the  payment :  You  carefully 
watch,  left  you  do  any  thing  for  him,  beyond  what  duty 
requires.  It  appears,  you  fay  to  him,  what  he  formerly 
faid  to  the  unfaithful  fervant :  Take  that  thine  is  ;  and  go 
thy  way.  You  reckon  with  God,  as  I  may  fay  :  All  your 
attention  is  engaged  in  prefcribing  limits  to  the  right  he  has 
over  your  heart  ;  and  all  his  attention  likewife,  if  I  may 
be  permitted  to  fpeak  in  this  manner,  is  to  put  bounds  to 
bis  mercies  to  your  foul,  and  to  pay  your  difference  with 
the  fame  :  Love  is  the  price  of  love  alone  ;  and  if  you  do 
not  fufficiently  feel  all  the  terror  and  extent  of  this  truth, 
allow  me  to  explain  to  you  its  confequences. 

The  firft  is,  that  this  ftate  of  lukewarmnefs  and  infidelity 
removing  the  foul  from  the  grace  of  protection,  leaves  him, 
as  I  may  fay,  empty  of  God,  and  in  the  hands,  as  it  were, 
of  his  own  weaknefs :  He  may  undoubtedly,  with  the  com- 
mon fuccours  left  him,  ftill  preferve  the  fidelity  he  owes 
to  God  :  He  has  always  enough  to  fupport  him  in  well-do- 
ing; but  his  lukewarmnefs  deprives  him  of  the  ability  to 
apply  them  to  any  purpofe ;  that  is  to  fay,  that  he  is  ftill 
aided  by  thofe  fuccours,  which  may  enable  him  to  go  on ; 
but  no  longer  by  thofe  with  which  he  may  infallibly  perfe- 
vere  ;  there  is  no  peril,  therefore,  in  this  fituation,  but 
makes  a  dangerous  impreflion  on  him,  and  leads  him  to  the 
brink  of  ruin. 

I  grant  that  a  happy  natural  difpofition,  fome  remains  of 
modefty,  and  fear  of  God,  a  confcience  ftill  afraid  of  guilt, 
and  a  reputation  to  preferve,  may  for  fome  time  defend  him 

again  ft 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMN ESS.  1 33 

againft  himfelf ;  but  as  thefe  refources,  drawn  moflly  from 
nature,  cannot  extend  far  ;  as  the  fenfual  objects,  in  the 
midft  of  which  he  lives,  make  every  day  new  wounds  in 
his  heart,  and  grace  lefs  abundant,  repairs  not  the  lofs, 
alas  !  his  ftrength  exhaufts  every  moment,  faith  relaxes,  and 
truth  is  obfcured  ;  the  more  he  advances,  the  worfe  he  be- 
comes :  Such  fouls  feel  perfectly,  that  they  no  longer  retire 
from  the  world  and  its  dangers,  equally  innocent,  as  former- 
ly; that  they  carry  their  weaknefles  and  compliance  much  far- 
ther ;  that  they  encroach  upon  limits  which  they  formerly 
refpecled;  that  loofe  converfations  find  them  more  indul- 
gent, evil-fpeaking  more  favourable,  pleafure  lefs  guarded, 
and  the  world  more  anxious  for  it ;  that  they  bring  into  it, 
a  heart  already  half-gained;  that  they  are  fenfible  of  their 
lofTes,  but  feel  nothing  to  repair  them  ;  in  a  word,  that 
God  is  almoft  withdrawn  from  them  ;  and  there  is  no  lon- 
ger any  barrier,  but  their  own  weaknefs,  betwixt  guilt  and 
them.  Behold  the  fituation  in  which  you  are ;  and  from 
that,  judge  of  the  one  in  which  you  will  foon  be. 

I  know  that  this  ftate  of  relaxation  and  infidelity  trou- 
bles and  difturbs  you  ;  that  you  fay  every  day,  that  nothing 
can  bellow  greater  happinefs,  than  a  detachment  from  every 
thing  worldly;  and  that  you  envy  the  defliny  of  thofe 
Chriflians  who  give  themfelves  up  to  God  without  referve, 
and  no  longer  keep  any  terms  with  the  world.  But  you 
are  deceived;  it  is  not  the  faith,  or  the  fervour  of  thefe 
faithful  Chriftians,  you  envy;  you  only  covet  their  lot; 
that  happinefs  and  peace,  which  they  enjov,  in  the  fervice 
of  their  Maker,  and  which  you  are  incapable  of  partaking  ; 
you  only  envy  them  that  infenfibility,  and  happy  indiffer- 
ence to  which  they  have  attained,  for  the  world  and  every 
thing  it  efteems ;  your  love  for  which  occafions  all  your 
troubles,   reraorfes,   and  fecret   anguifh ;    but  you   envy 

them 


*34 


SERMON     V. 


them  not  the  facrifices  they  were  under  the  necefTity  of 
making,  to  arrive  at  their  prefent  ftate  of  peace  and  tran- 
quillity :  You  envy  them  not  the  trials  they  have  under- 
gone, in  order  to  merit  the  precious  gift  of  a  lively  and 
fervent  faith :  You  envy  the  happinefs  of  their  ftate ;  but 
you  would  not  wifh  it  to  coft  you  the  illufion  and  fenfuality 
of  your  own. 

The  fecond  confequence  I  draw  from  the  refufal  of  the 
grace  of  protection  to  the  lukewarm  Chriftian,  is,  that  the 
yoke  of  our  Saviour,  to  him,  becomes  burdenfome,  hard, 
and  infupportable.  For,  my  brethren,  by  the  irregularity 
of  our  nature,  having  loft  all  tafte  for  righteoufnefs  and 
truth,  which,  in  a  ftate  of  innocence,  formed  the  happi- 
nefs of  man,  we  no  longer  have  any  feeling  or  defire,  but 
for  objc&s  which  gratify  the  fenfes  and  paflions.  The  du- 
ties of  the  law  of  God,  which  recal  us  from  the  fenfes  to 
the  fpirit,  and  make  us  facrifice  the  prefent  impreflions  of 
pleafure  to  the  hope  of  future  promifes :  Thefe  duties,  I 
fay,  prefently  fatigue  our  weaknefs,  becaufe  they  are  con- 
tinual efforts  we  make  againft  ourfelves.  It  requires  the 
un&ion  of  grace,  therefore,  to  foften  the  yoke ;  it  is  ne- 
ceflary  that  grace  fpread  fecret  confolations  over  its  bitter- 
nefs,  and  change  the  fadnefs  of  duty  into  a  holy  and  fenfi- 
ble  joy.  Now  the  lukewarm  foul,  deprived  of  this  unc- 
tion, feels  only  the  weight  of  the  yoke,  without  the  con- 
folations which  foften  it:  In  this  manner,  all  the  duties  of 
piety  and  religion  become  infipid  to  you;  works  of  falva- 
tion  become  wearifome  ;  your  confcience,  reftlefs  and  em- 
barrafled,  by  your  relaxations  and  infidelities,  of  which 
you  cannot  juftily  the  innocence,  no  longer  allows  you  to 
enjoy  either  peace  or  joy  in  the  fervice  of  God.  You  feel 
all  the  weight  of  the  duties  to  which  fome  remains  of  faith, 
and  love  of  eafe,  hinder  you  from  being  unfaithful;  but 

you 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  135 

you  feel  not  the  fecret  teftirnony  of  a  clear  conference, 
which  foothes  and  fupports  the  fervent  Chriftian  :  You 
fhun,  perhaps,  certain  occafions  of  pleafure,  where  inno- 
cence is  lure  of  being  fhipwrecked,  but  you  only  experi- 
ence in  the  retreat  which  divides  you  from  them,  a 
wearifomenefs,  and  a  more  lively  defire  for  the  fame  plea- 
fures,  from  which  you  have  forced  yourfelf  to  refrain* 
You  pray,  but  prayer  is  no  longer  but  a  fatigue  :  You 
frequent  the  fociety  of  virtuous  perfons,  but  their  compa- 
ny becomes  fo  irkfome,  as  almoft  to  difguft  you  with  vir- 
tue itfelf :  The  flighted  violence  you  do  upon  your  incli- 
nations for  the  fake  of  heaven,  cofls  you  fuch  efforts,  that 
the  pleafures  and  amufements  of  the  world  miul:  be  appli- 
ed to,  to  ref'refh  and  invigorate  you  after  this  fatigue ;  the 
fmalleft  mortification  exhaufts  your  body  ;  calls  uneafinefs 
and  chagrin  through  your  temper,  and  only  confoles  you, 
by  an  immediate  determination,  to  abandon  its  practice. 
You  live  unhappy,  and  without  confolation,  becaufe  you 
deprive  yourfelf  of  a  world  you  love,  and  fubftitute  in  its 
place  duties  which  you  love  not :  Your  whole  life  is  but  a 
melancholy  fatigue,  and  a  perpetual  difgufl  with  yourfelf: 
You  refemble  the  Ifraelites  in  the  defert ;  difgufted,  on  the 
one  part,  with  the  manna  upon  which  the  Lord  had  order- 
ed them  to  fubfift  ;  and  on  the  other,  not  daring  to  return 
to  the  food  of  the  Egyptians,  which  they  flill  loved,  and 
which  the  dread  alone  of  the  Almighty's  anger  induced 
them  to  deny  themfelves.  Now  this  flate  of  violence  can- 
not  endure;'  we  foon  tire  of  any  remains  of  virtue,  which 
do  not  quiet  the  heart,  comfort  the  reafon,  and  even  flat- 
ter our  felf-love  :  We  foon  throw  off  the  remains  or  a 
yoke,  which  weighs  us  down  ;  and  which  we  no  longer 
carry  through  love,  but  for  decency's  fake.  It  is  {o  me- 
lancholy to  be  nothing  at  all,  as  I  may  fay:  Neither  jufl 
nor  worldly  ;  attached  neither  to  the  world    nor   to  Jefus 

Chrifi: 


136  SERMON     V. 

Chrift  ;  enjoying  neither  the  pleafures  of  the  fenfes,  nor 
thofe  of  grace;  that  it  is  impoflible  this  wearifome  fitua- 
tion  of  indifference  and  neutrality  can  be  durable.  The 
heart,  and  particularly  thofe  of  a  certain  defcription,  re- 
quires an  avowed  object  to  occupy  and  intereft  it ;  If  not 
God,  it  will  foon  be  the  world  :  A  heart,  lively,  eager, 
always  in  extremes,  and  fuch  as  the  generality  of  men  pof- 
fefs,  cannot  be  fixed,  but  by  the  feelings;  and  to  be  con- 
tinually difgufted  with  virtue,  mows  a  heart  already  prepared 
to  yield  to  the  attractions  of  vice. 

I  know,  in  the  firft  place,  That  there  are  lazy  and  indo- 
lent fouls,  who  feem  to  keep  themfelves  in  this  ftate  o£ 
equilibration  and  infenfibility  ;  who  offer  nothing  decided, 
either  for  the  world  or  virtue  ;  who  appear  equally  diftant, 
by  their  difpofitions,  either  from  the  ardours  of  a  faithful 
piety,  or  the  exceffes  of  profane  guilt ;  who,  in  the  midft 
of  the  pleafures  of  the  world,  preferve  a  fund  of  reten- 
tion and  regularity,  which  proves  the  exiflence  of  fome 
remains  of  virtue  ;  and  in  the  midft  of  their  religious  du- 
ties, a  fund  of  careleflhefs  and  laxity,  which  ftill  breathes 
the  air  and  maxims  of  the  world.  Thefe  are  indolent  and 
tranquil  hearts,  animated  in  nothing ;  in  whom  indolence 
almoft  fupplies  the  place  of  virtue  ;  and  who,  notwith- 
standing they  never  arrive  at  that  degree  of  piety,  which 
the  faithful  accomplifh,  never  proceed  to  thofe  lengths  in 
iniquity,  which  criminal  and  abandoned  fouls  do. 

I  know  it,  my  brethren,  but  I  likewife  know,  that  this 
indolence  of  heart  defends  us  only  from  crimes  which 
would  coft  us  trouble  ;  makes  us  avoid  only  thofe  pleafures 
which  we  would  be  obliged  to  purchafe,  at  the  expence  of 
our  tranquillity,  and  which  the  love  of  eafe  alone  prevents 
us  from  enjoying.     It  leaves  us  virtuous  only  in  the  eyes  of 

men, 


STATE   OF    LUKEWARMNESS. 


*37 


men,  who  confound  the  indolence  which  dreads  embarrafT- 
ment  with  the  piety  which  flies  from  vice;  but  it  does  not 
defend  us  againfl  ourfelves  ;  againft:  a  thoufand  illicit  de- 
fires  ;  a  thoufand  criminal  compliances  ;  a  thoufand  paf- 
fions,  more  fecret,  and  lefs  painful,  becaufe  (hut  up  in  the 
heart;  from  jealoufies,  which  devour  us  ;  ambition,  which 
domineers  over  us ;  pride,  which  corrupts  us  ;  a  defire  of 
pleafure,  which  engrofles  us  ;  an  excefs  of  fell- love,  which 
is  the  principle  of  all  our  conduct.,  and  infers  all  our  ac- 
tions ;  that  is  to  fay,  that  this  indolence  delivers  up  our 
heart  to  all  its  weakneflfes  ;  at  the  fame  time  that  it  ferves 
as  a  check  againft:  the  more  ftriking  and  tumultuous  paf- 
fions,  and  that,  what  appears  only  indolence  in  the  eyes  of 
men,  is  always  before  God  a  fecret  ignominy  and  corrup- 
tion. 

I  know,  in  the  iecond  place,  that  this  love  of  piety,  and 
this  un£Hon  which  foftens  the  practice  of  religious  duties, 
is  a  gift  frequently  refufed  even  to  holy  and  faithful  Chrif- 
tians.  But  there  are  three  efTential  differences  betwixt  the 
faithful  foul,  to  whom  the  Lord  denies  the  lenfible  confo- 
lations  of  piety  ;  and  the  lukewarm  and  worldly  one,  whom 
the  weight  of  the  yoke  oppreffes,  and  who  is  incapable  of 
enjoying  the  things  of  God. 

The  firfl  is,  That  a  faithful  Chriftian,  in  fpite  of  his  re- 
pugnancies, prefervinga  firm  and  folid  faith,  finds  his  fhte, 
and  the  exemption  from  guilt  in  which  he  lives,  fince 
touched  by  God,  a  thoufand  times  more  happy,  than  that 
in  which  he  lived  when  delivered  up  to  his  paffions  ;  and 
penetrated  with  horror  at  his  former  excefl'es,  lie  would 
not  change  his  lot,  or  re-engage  himfelf  in  his  former  vices, 
for  all  the  pleafures  of  the  earth  :  In  place  of  which, 
the  lukewarm  and  unfaithful  heart,  difgufted  with  virtue, 

Vol  I.  S  envioufly 


I38  SERMON    V. 

envioufly  regards  the  pleafures,  and  vain  happinefs  of  the 
world  ;  and  his  difgufts  being  only  the  confequence  and 
fufferings  of  his  weaknefs,  and  the  lukewarmnefs  of  his 
faith,  to  plunge  into  fin,  begins  to  appear  as  the  only  re- 
fouree  left  him,  from  wearinefs  and  the  gloominefs  of  pi- 
ety. 

The  fecond  difference  is,  That  the  faithful  Chriftian,  in 
the  midft  of  his  difgufts  and  hardfhips,  at  leaft  bears  a  con- 
fcience  which  reproaches  him  not  with  guilt:  He  at  leaft  is 
fupported,  by  the  teftimony  of  his  own  heart,  and  by  a 
certain  degree  of  internal  peace,  which,  though  neither 
warm,  nor  very  fenfible,  fails  not,  however,  to  eftablifh 
within  us,  a  calm  which  we  never  experienced  in  the  paths 
of  error :  on  the  contrary,  the  lukewarm  and  unfaithful 
foul,  allowing  himfelf,  againft  the  teftimony  ot  his  own 
confcience,  a  thou  fa  nd  daily  tranfgreffions,  of  which  he 
knows  not  the  wickednefs,  bears  always  an  uneafy  and  fuf- 
picious  confcience  ;  and  being  no  longer  fuftained  by  love 
for  his  duties,  nor  the  peace  and  teftimony  of  his  confci- 
ence, this  ftate  of  agitation  and  wearinefs  foon  terminates 
in  the  miferable  peace  of  fin. 

The  laft  reafon  is,  That  the  difgufts  of  the  faithful  Chrif- 
tian being  only  trials,  to  which,  for  his  purification,  God 
expofes  him,  he  fupplies,  in  a  thoufand  ways,  the  fenfible 
confolations  of  virtue  which  he  refufes  him ;  he  replaces 
them  by  a  more  poweriul  protection  ;  by  a  merciful  atten- 
tion to  remove  every  danger  which  might  feduce  him  ; 
and  by  more  abundant  fuccours  of  grace  ;  for  the  Almighty 
wifhes  neither  to  lofe  nor  difcourage  him  ;  he  wifhes  only 
to  prove  him  ;  and  make  him  expiate  by  the  afflictions  and 
hardfhips  of  virtue,  the  unjuft  pleafures  ot  fin  :  But  the 
difgufts  of  an  infidel   foul  are  not  trials,  they  are  punifh- 

ments  : 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  139 

merits  :  It  is  not  a  merciful  God  who  fufpends  the  confola- 
tions  of  grace,  without  fufpending  grace  itfelf :  It  is  not  a 
tender  father,  who  fupplies  by  the  folidity  of  his  tendernefs, 
and  by  effe&ual  aiTiftances,  the  apparent  rigours  he  is  un- 
der the  neceflity  of  ufing  :  It  is  a  fevere  judge,  who  only 
begins  to  deprive  the  criminal  of  a  thoufand  indulgences, 
becaufe  the  fentence  of  death  is  prepared  for  him.  The 
hardfliips  of  virtue  find  a  thoufand  refources  in  virtue  it- 
felf;  thofe  of  lukewarmnefs,  can  find  them  only  in  the 
deceitful  pleafures  of  vice. 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  lukewarm- 
nefs in  the  ways  of  God  ;  the  mifery  of  lofing  righteouf- 
nefs,  Will  you  tell  us,  after  this,  that  you  wilh  to  prac- 
tife  only  a  degree  of  virtue  which  may  continue  ;  that  thefe 
great  exertions  of  zeal  cannot  be  fupported  ;  that  it  is  much 
better  not  to  begin  fo  high,  and  by  thefe  means  to  accom- 
plifh  the  end ;  and  that  they  never  go  far,  who  exhaufl 
themfelves  at  the  beginning  of  their  journey. 

I  know  that  every  excefs,  even  in  piety,  comes  not 
from  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  is  a  fpirit  of  wiidom  and 
difcretion  ;  that  the  zeal  which  overturns  the  order  of 
our  ftate  and  duties,  is  not  the  piety  which  comes  from 
above,  but  an  illufion  born  in  ourfelves  ;  that  indifcretion 
is  a  fource  of  falfe  virtues  ;  and  that  we  often  give  to  va- 
nity what  we  think  is  given  to  truth. 

But  I  tell  you  from  God,  that  to  perfevere  in  his  ways, 
we  mull  give  ourfelves  up  to  him  without  referve  :  That 
in  order  to  fupport  the  fidelity  due  to  the  elTential  parts  of 
our  duty,  we  mull  unccafingly  endeavour  to  weaken  the 
paflions  which  oppofe  it ;  and  that  keeping  terms  with 
thefe  paflicns,  under  the  pretext  of  not  going  too  far,  is 

to 


1^0  SERMON    V. 

to  dig  for  ourfclves  a  grave.  I  tell  you,  that  it  is  only  the 
faithful  and  fervent  Chriftians,  who,  not  contented  with 
fhunning  fin,  fhun  alfo  every  thing  which  can  lead  to  it ; 
that  it  is  thefe  alone  who  perfevere,  who  iuftain  themfelves, 
who  honour  piety  by  a  fupported,  equal  and  uniform  con- 
duel  ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  lukewarm  and  relaxed 
fouls,  who  have  begun  their  penitence,  by  limiting  their 
piety,  and  accommodating  it  to  the  pleafures  and  maxims 
of  the  world  ;  it  is  thefe  fouls  who  draw  back,  who  belie 
themfelves,  and  who  dishonour  piety,  by  their  inconftancy 
and  inequality  of  conduct  ;  by  a  life,  fometimes  blended 
with  virtue  and  retirement,  and  at  others  devoted  to  the 
world  and  weaknefs :  And  I  appeal  to  yourfelves,  my  bre- 
thren, if,  when  you  fee  in  the  world  a  perfon  relax  from 
his  fir  ft  fervour,  gradually  mingle  himfelf  in  the  pleafures 
and  focieties  h$  had  lately  fo  fcrupulouflv  and  feverely 
denied  himfelf  ;  infenfibly  abate  his  love  of  retirement,  his 
modefly,  circumfpe&ion,  prayers,  and  exactitude  to  ful- 
fil his  religious  duties,  you  fay  not  to  yourfelves,  that  he 
is  not  far  from  returning  to  what  he  formerly  was  ?  Are 
not  thefe  relaxations  regarded  by  you  as  a  prelude  to  his 
ruin  ;  and  that  virtue  is  nearly  extincl,  when  once  you  fee 
it  weakened  ?  Do  you  even  require  fo  much  to  roufe  your 
cenfures,  and  malicious  prefages  againft  piety  ?  Unjuft  that 
you  are,  you  condemn  a  cold  and  unfaithful  virtue,  while 
you  condemn  us  for  requiring  of  you  a  virtue  faithful  and 
fervent  !  You  pretend,  that  in  order  to  continue,  you  mult 
begin  with  moderation,  while  you  prophecy  that  a  total 
departure  from  virtue  is  not  far  diftant,  when  once  it  begins 
to  be  followed  with  coolnefs  and  negligence. 

From  a  relaxation  alone,  therefore,  we  are  to  dread  a 
return  to  our  former  courfes,  and  a  departure  from  virtue  : 
It  is  not  by  giving  ourfelves  up  without  referve  to  God, 

that 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS. 


l4i 


that  we  become  difgufted  with  piety,  and  are  forfaken  by 
him  :  The  way  to  come  glorioufly  off  in  battle,  is  not  by 
/paring,  but  overcoming  the  enemy :  There  is  no  dread, 
therefore,  of  doing  too  much,  left  we  mould  be  unable  to 
fupport  it ;  on  the  contrary,  to  merit  the  grace  neceffary 
to  our  fupport,  we  ought,  from  the  firft,  to  leave  nothing 
undone.  What  illufion,  my  brethren  !  We  dread  zeal,  as 
dangerous  to  perfeverance  :  and  it  is  zeal  alone  which  can 
obtain  it :  We  fix  ourfelves  in  a  lukewarm  and  commodious 
life,  as  the  only  one  which  can  fubfift;  and  it  is  the  only 
one  which  proves  falfe  :  We  fhun  fidelity,  as  the  rock  of 
piety ;  and  piety  without  fidelity  is  never  far  from  fhip- 
wreck. 

It  is  thus  that  lukewarmnefs  removes  from  the  infidel 
foul  the  grace  of  protection  ;  of  which  the  abfence  depriv- 
ing our  faith  of  all  its  ftrength,  and  the  yoke  of  Jefus 
Chrift  ot  all  its  confolations,  leaves  us  in  a  ftate  of  fuch 
imbecility,  that  to  be  loft,  innocence  requires  only  to  be  at- 
tacked. But  if  the  lofs  of  righteoufnefs  is  inevitable,  on 
the  part  of  grace  which  is  withdrawn,  it  is  ftill  more  fo, 
on  account  of  the  paftions  which  are  fortified  within  us. 

Part  II.  What  renders  vigilance  fo  neceffary  to  Chrif- 
tian  piety,  is,  that  all  the  paftions  which  oppofe  themfelves 
in  us  to  the  law  of  God,  only  die,  as  I  may  fay,  with  us. 
We  undoubtedly  are  able  to  weaken  them,  by  the  aftiftance 
of  grace,  and  a  fervent  and  lively  faith ;  but  the  roots  al- 
ways continue  in  the  heart ;  we  always  carry  within  us  the 
principles  of  the  fame  errors  our  tears  have  effaced.  Guilt 
may  be  extinguifhed  in  our  hearts;  but  fin,  as  the  Apofilc 
fays,  that  is  to  fay,  the  corrupted  inclinations  which  have 
formed  our  guilt,  inhabits  and  lives  there. ftiil  :  And  that 
fund  oi  corruption  which  removed  us  [u  far  from  God,  is 

ftil 


j  42  SERMON     V. 

ftill  left  us  in  our  penitence,  to  ferve  as  a  continual  exercife 
to  virtue;  to  render  us,  by  the  continual  occafions  of  com- 
bat it  raifes  up  for  us,  more  worthy  of  an  eternal  crown  ; 
to  humble  our  pride  ;  to  keep  us  in  remembrance  that  the 
duration  of  our  prefent  life  is  a  time  of  war  and  danger  ; 
and,  by  a  deftiny  inevitable  to  our  nature,  that  there  is  on- 
ly one  ftep  between  relaxation  and  guilt. 

It  is  true,  that  the  grace  of  Jefus  Chrift  is  given  us  to 
reprefs  thefe  corrupted  inclinations  which  furvive  our  con- 
verfion  ;  but  in  a  flate  of  lukewarmnefs,  as  I  have  already 
faid,  grace  offering  us  only  common  fuccours,  and  the 
grace  of  protection,  of  which  we  are  become  unworthy, 
being  either  more  rare,  or  entirely  fufpended,  it  is  evident 
that  the  paffions  mufl  acquire  new  ftrength.  But  I  fay, 
that  not  only  the  paffions  are  flregthened,  in  a  lukewarm 
and  infidel  life,  becaufe  the  grace  of  protection  which 
checked  them  is  more  rare,  but  likewife  by  the  flate  itfelf 
of  relaxation  and  coldnefs  ;  for  that  life  being  only  a  con- 
tinued indulgence  of  all  the  paffions;  a  fimple  eafinefs  in 
granting,  to  a  certain  degree,  every  thing  which  flatters 
the  appetites  ;  a  watchfulnefs,  even  of  felf-love,  to  re- 
move whatever  might  reprefs,  or  reftrain  them  ;  and  a  per- 
petual ufage  of  all  things  capable  of  inflaming  them  :  it  is 
evident,  that  by  thefe  means  they  muft  daily  acquire  new 
force. 

In  a  word,  my  brethren,  we  are  not  to  imagine,  that  in 
pufhing  our  indulgence  for  our  paffions,  only  to  certain 
lengths  permitted,  we  appeafe  them  as  I  may  fay,  that  we 
allow  fufficient  to  fatisfy  them,  and  not  enough  to  flain  our 
foul,  or  carry  trouble  and  remorfe  through  our  confcience  ; 
or  fancy  that  we  can  ever  attain  a  certain  degree  of  equili- 
bration betwixt  virtue  and  fin,  where,  on  the  one  fide,  our 

paffions 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  143 

paflions  are  fatisfied  by  the  indulgence  allowed  them  ;  and 
on  the  other,  our  confcience  is  tranquil,  by  the  ahfence 
of  guilt,  which  we  fhun.  For  fuch  is  the  plan  adopted 
by  the  lukewarm  foul :  Favourable  to  his  indolence,  be- 
caufe  he  equally  banifhes  everything,  either  in  virtue  or 
in  fin,  which  can  difturb  him:  To  the  pailions,  he  refufes 
whatever  might  trouble  his  confcience ;  and  to  virtue, 
whatever  might  be  difagreeble  to,  or  mortify  his  felf-love  : 
But  this  ftate  of  equilibrium  is  a  perfect  chimera.  The 
pafTions  know  no  limits  or  bounds  in  guilt  ;  how,  therefore, 
could  they  pofTibly  be  reilrained  to  thofe  of  the  lukewarm 
foul  ?  Even  the  utmofl  excefs  cannot  reftrain  or  fix  them  ; 
how  then  could  fimple  indulgences  do  it  ?  The  more  you 
grant,  the  more  you  deprive  yourfelf  of  the  power  to  re- 
fufe  them  any  thing.  The  true  fecret  of  appeafmg,  is  not 
by  favouring  them  to  a  certain  degree ;  it  is  by  oppofing 
them  in  every  thing ;  every  indulgence  only  renders  them 
more  fierce  and  unmanageable ;  it  is  a  little  water  thrown 
upon  a  great  fire,  which,  far  from  extinguifhing,  increafes 
its  fury  :  Every  thing  which  flatters  the  paflions,  renders 
them  more  keen,  and  diminifhes  the  probability  of  being 
able  to  conquer  them. 

Now,  fuch  is  the  flateof  a  lukewarm  and  unfaithful  foul. 
It  allows  itfelf  every  animofity  which  extends  not  to  avow- 
ed revenge ;  it  juilifies  every  pleafure,  in  which  guilt  is 
not  palpable  ;  it  delivers  itfelf  up  without  referve  to  every 
worldly  defire  and  gratification,  by  which  no  individual, 
it  fuppofes,  is  injured;  every  omiflion,  which  feems  to 
turn  on  the  arbitrary  duties,  or  but  (lightly  interefls  the  cf- 
fential  ones,  it  makes  no  fcruple  of ;  every  action  of  felf- 
love,  which  leads  not  directly  to  guilt,  it  regards  as  nothing  ; 
all  that  nicety,  with  regard  to  rank  and  perfonal  fame, 
which  is  compatible  with  that  moderation  even  the  world 

requires, 


J  44  S  E  R  M  O  N     V. 

requires,  it  regards  as  a  merit.  Now,  what  happens  in  con- 
fequence  of  this  ?  Liflen  and  you  fhall  know  ;  and  I  beg 
you  will  attend  to  the  following  reflections. 

In  the  firft  place  :  All  the  inclinations  within  us,  which 
oppofe  themfelves  to  order  and  duty,  being  continually 
ftrengthened,  order  and  duty  at  laft  find  in  us  infurmounta- 
ble  difficulties ;  in  fo  much,  that  to  accomplifh  them  on 
any  eflential  occafion,  or  when  required  by  the  law  of 
God,  is  like  remounting  againfl  the  flreamof  a  rapid  flood, 
where  the  current  drags  us  down,  in  fpite  of  every  effort 
to  the  contrary  ;  or  like  a  furious  and  unmanageable  horfe, 
which  it  is  neceffary  to  flop  fhort  on  the  brink  of  a  preci- 
pice. Thus  your  infenfibility  and  pride,  are  nourifhed  to 
fuch  a  degree  of  ftrength,  that  you  abandon  your  heart  to 
all  their  impreflions  :  Thus  your  care  and  anxiety,  have  fo 
fortified  in  your  heart,  the  defire  of  worldly  praife,  that  on 
any  important  occafion,  where  it  would  be  neceffary  to 
facrifice  the  vanity  of  its  Suffrages  to  duty,  and  expofe 
yourfelf,  for  the  good  of  your  foul,  to  its  cenfure  and  de- 
rifion  ,you  will  always  prefer  the  interefls  of  vanity  to  thofe 
of  truth,  and  the  opinions  of  men  will  be  much  more  pow- 
erful than  the  fear  of-God.  Thus  thofe  anxieties  with  re- 
gard to  fortune  and  advancement,  have  rendered  ambition 
fo  completely  fovereign  of  your  heart,  that  in  any  delicate 
conjuncture,  where  the  deffruCtion  of  a  rival  would  be  ne- 
neffary  towards  your  own  elevation,  you  will  never  hefi- 
tate,  but  will  facrifice  your  confcience  to  your  fortune  ; 
and  be  unjufl  towards  your  brother,  leaft  you  fail  towards 
yourfelf.  Thus,  in  a  word,  to  avoid  a  long  detail,  thofe 
fufpicious  attachments,  loofe  conversations,  ridiculous  com- 
pliances, and  defires  of  pleafmg,  too  much  attended  to, 
have  filled  you  with  difpofitions  fo  nearly  allied  to  guilt 
and  debauchery,  that  you  are  no  longer  capable  of  refin- 
ance 


STATE  OF   JLUKEWARMNESS. 


H5 


ance  againft  any  of  their  attacks  ;  the  corruption  prepared, 
by  the  whole  train  of  your  paft  aftions,  will  be  lighted  up 
in  an  inftant:  Your  weak nefs  will  overcome  your  reflec- 
tion :  Your  heait  will  go  againft  glory,  duty,  and  yourfelf. 
We  cannot  long  continue  faithful,  when  we  find  in  our- 
felves  fo  many  difpofitions  to  be  otherwife. 

Thus  you  will  yourfelf  be  furprifed  at  your  own  weak- 
nefs :  You  will  afk  at  yourfelf,  What  arc  become  of  all 
thofe  difpofitions  of  modefty  and  virtue,  which  formerly 
infpired  you  with  fuch  horror  at  fin  ?  You  no  longer  will 
know  yourfelf:  But  this  ftate  of  guilt  will  gradually  ap- 
pear lefs  frightful  to  you:  The  heart  foon  juftifies  to  itfelf, 
whatever  pleafes  it  :  Whatever  is  agreeable  to  us,  does  not 
long  alarm  us  ;  and  to  the  mifery  of  a  departure  from  vir- 
tue, you  will  add  the  mifery  of  ignorance  and  fecurity. 

Such  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  a  lukewarm  and  unfaithful 
life:  Paflions  which  we  have  too  much  indulged  ;  "Young 
lions,"  fays  a  prophet,  which  have  been  nouriihed  with- 
'*  out  precaution,  at  length  grow  up,  and  devour  the  care- 
"  lefs  hand,  which  has  even  afiifted  to  ftrengthen  and  ren- 
•'  der  them  formidable  :"  The  pafftons  arrived  to  a  cer- 
tain point,  gain  a  complete  afcendancy  :  In  vain  you  then 
try  to  regain  yourfelf:  The  time  is  pall ;  you  have  foftered 
the  profane  fire  in  your  heart ;  it  muff  at  laft  break  out  ; 
you  have  nouriihed  the  venom  within  you  ;  it  mull  now 
fpread  and  gain  upon  you  ;  and  the  time  is  paft  for  any  ap- 
plication to  medicine;  you  mould  have  taken  it  in  time; 
at  the  commencement  the  difeafe  was  not  irremediable  ; 
you  have  allowed  it  to  ftrengthen  ;  you  have  irritated  it  by 
every  thing  which  could  inflame,  and  render  it  incurable  ; 
it  muft  now  be  conqueror,  and  you  the  victim  ot  your  own 
indifcrction  and  indulgence. 

Vol.  I.  T  Do 


146  SERMON     V. 

Do  you  not  likcwife  fay,  my  brethren,  that  you  have 
the  belt  intentions  in  the  world ;  that  you  wifli  you  could 
a£l  much  better  than  you  do  ;  and  though  you  have  the  fin- 
cereft  defiresfor  falvation,  yetathoufand  conjunctures  hap- 
pen in  life,  where  we  forget  all  our  good  intentions,  and 
muff  be  faints  to  refift  their  imprefhons  ?  This  is  exaftly 
what  we  tell  you  ;  that  in  fpite  of  all  your  pretended  good 
intentions,  if  you  do  not  fly,  ftruggle,  watch,  pray,  and 
continually  take  the  command  over  yourfelf,  a  thoufand 
occafions  will  occur,  where  you  will  no  longer  be  matter 
of  your  own  weaknefs :  This  is  what  we  tell  you,  Jthat 
nothing  but  a  mortified  and  watchful  life  can  place  us  be- 
yond the  reach  of  temptation  and  danger  :  That  it  is  ridi- 
culous to  fuppofe  we  fhall  continue  faithful,  in  thofe  mo- 
ments when  violently  attacked,  when  we  bear  a  heart  weak- 
ened, wavering,  and  already  on  the  verge  of  falling  ;  that 
none  but  the  houfe  built  upon  a  rock  can  refift  the  winds 
and  the  tempefts  ;  and,  in  a  word,  that  we  muft  be  holy, 
and  firmly  eftablifhed  in  virtue,  to  live  free  from  guilt. 

And  when  I  fay  that  we  muft  be  holy  :  Alas !  my  bre- 
thren, the  moft  faithful  and  fervent  Chriftians,  with  every 
inclination  mortified  as  far  as  the  frailty  of  our  nature  will 
permit  ;  imaginations  purified  by  prayer,  and  minds  nou- 
rifhed  in  virtue,  and  meditation  on  the  law  of  God,  fre- 
quently find  themfelves  in  fuch  terrible  fituations,  that 
their  hearts  fink  within  them ;  their  imaginations  become 
troubled  and  deranged;  they  fee  themfelves  in  thofe  melan- 
choly agitations,  where  they  float  for  a  long  time  betwixt 
viclory  and  death  ;  and,  like  a  veffel  ftruggling  againft  the 
waves,  in  the  midft  of  an  enraged  ocean,  they  can  only 
look  for  fafety  from  the  Almighty  Commander  of  winds 
and  tempefts.  And  you,  with  a  heart  already  half-feduccd, 
with  inclinations  at  leaft  bordering  upon  guilt,  would  wifh 
4  your 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  1 47 

your  weaknefs  to  be  proof  againfl  all  attacks,  and  the  moll 
powerful  temptations  to  find  you  always  tranquil  and  inac- 
ceffible  ?  You  would  wifh,  with  your  lukewarm,  fenfual, 
and  worldly  morals,  that  on  thefe  occafions  your  foul  ihould 
be  gifted  with  that  flrength  and  faith  which  even  the  moll 
tender  and  watchful  piety  fometimes  cannot  give?  You 
would  wifh  pafhons  flattered,  nourilhed,  and  flrengthcned, 
to  remain,  tradable,  quiet,  and  cold,  in  the  prefence  of 
objects  mofl  capable  of  lighting  them  up  ?  Thofe  which 
after  years  of  aufterities,  and  a  life  devoted  to  prayer  and 
watching,  awake  fometimes  in  a  moment,  far  even  from 
danger,  and,  by  melancholy  examples,  make  the  mod  up- 
right feel,  that  we  never  fhould  be  off  our  guard,  and  that 
the  higheft  point  of  virtue  is  fometimes  the  inftant  which 
precedes  a  departure  from,  and  total  lofs  of  it.  Such  is 
our  lot,  my  brethren,  to  be  quick-fighted  only  towards  the 
dangers  which  regard  our  fortune,  or  our  life,  and  not 
even  to  know  thofe  which  threaten  our  falvation.  But  let 
us  undeceive  ourfelves :  To  fhun  guilt,  fomething  more  is 
required  than  the  lukewarmnefs  and  indolence  of  virtue  ; 
and  vigilance  is  the.  only  mean  left  us  by  our  Saviour  to  pre- 
serve our  innocence.      Firfl  reflection. 

A  fecond  reflection  to  be  made  on  this  truth  is,  That  the 
paflions,  daily  ftrengthening  in  a  lukewarm  and  infidel  life, 
not  only  duty  finds  in  us  unfurmountable  repugnancies,  but 
guilt  likewife,  as  I  may  fay,  polifhes  itfelf ;  and  at  lafl  we 
feel  no  more  repugnance  to  it,  than  to  the  fimpleft  fault 
Indeed,  by  thefe  daily  infidelities  infeparable  from  luke- 
warmnefs, the  heart,  as  if  by  infenfible  fteps,  at  lafl  arrives 
at  thofe  dangerous  limits,  which,  by  a  (ingle  line,  feparate 
Jile  from  death,  guilt  from  innocence,  and  makes  the  final 
flep,  almofl  without  perceiving  it ;  only  a  little  way  re- 
maining tor  him  to  go,  and  having  no  occafion  for  any  new- 
exertion 


I48  SERMON    V, 

exertion  to  accomplifh  it,  be  does  not  believe  he  has  ex- 
ed  his  former  bounds.  He  had  repleniihed  himfclf 
With  dtfpofitions,  fo  nearly  bordering  ori  guilt,  that  he  has 
brought  forth  iniquity  without  pain,  repugnance,  vifible 
movement,  or  even  perceiving  it  himfelf;  Similar  to  a  dy- 
ing j  '  :on,  whom  the  languors  of  a  long  and  painful  mala- 
dy have  fo  extenuated,  and  fb  nearly  approached  to  his  end, 
that  the  departing  figh  refembiesthofe  which  have  preceded 
it ;  cofts  him  no  greater  effort  than  the  others,  and  even 
leaves  the  ''peculators  uncertain,  whether  his  laft  moment  is 
come,  or  if  he  ftill  breathes  :  And  this  is  what  renders  the 
ftate  of  a  lukewarm  and  infidel  foul  Mill  more  dangerous, 
that  they  are  commonly  dead  to  grace,  without  knowing  it 
themfelves  :  They  become  enemies  to  God,  while  they 
flill  live,  with  him  as  with  a  friend  :  They  are  ftill  in  the 
commence  of  holy  things,  when  they  have  loft  the  grace, 
which  entitles  us  to  approach  them. 

Thus,  let  thofe  fouls  whom  this  difcourfe  regards,  no  lon- 
ger deceive  themfelves,  becaufe  they  believe  to  have  hitherto 
avoided  a  grofs  departure  from  virtue  :  Their  ftate  before 
God,  is  undoubtedly  only  more  dangerous  :  Perhaps  the 
moft  formidable  danger  of  lukewarmnefs,  is,  that  already 
dead  in  the  fight  of  God,  they  live  in  their  opinion,  with- 
out any  vifible  or  marked  guilt;  that  they  compofe  them- 
felves tranquilly  in  death,  depending  on  an  appearance  of 
life  which  comforts  them  ;  that  to  the  danger  of  their  fitu- 
ation,  they  add  a  falfe  peace,  which  confirms  them  in  this 
path  of  illufion  and  darknefs ;  it  is  in  a  word,  that  the  Lord, 
by  terrible  and  fecret  judgments,  ftrikes  them  with  blind- 
nefs,  and  punifhes  the  corruption  of  their  heart,  by  permit- 
ting them  to  be  ignorant  of  it.  A  grofs  fall  from  virtue, 
if  I  mny  venture  to  fay  fo,  would  to  them  be  a  mark  of  the 
goodncls  and  mercy  of    God  :  They  would  then   at  leaft 

open 


STATE  OF  LUKE WARMN ESS.  1 49 

open  their  eyes  :  Naked  and  manifeft  guilt  would  then  car- 
ry trouble  and  uneafinefs  through  their  conference :  The 
difeafe  at  laft  difcovered,  would  perhaps  induce  them  to 
have  recourfe  to  the  remedy  ;  in  place  of  which,  this  life, 
apparently  regular,  compofes  and  calms  them  ;  renders  ufe- 
lefs  the  example  of  fervent  Chriftians  ;  perfuades  them 
that  this  great  fervour  is  unneceflary  ;  that  it  is  much  more 
the  effecl:  of  temperament  than  of  grace  ;  that  it  is  an  emo- 
tion of  zeal,  rather  than  a  duty  ;  and  makes  them  liflen  to, 
as  vain  exaggerations,  all  that  we  fay,  with  regard  to  a  luke- 
warm and  infidel  life.     Second  reflection. 

In  a  word,  the  lad;  reflection  to  be  made  on  this  great 
truth,  is,  that  fuch  is  the  nature  of  our  heart,  always  to 
remain  much  below  what  it  at  firfl  propofed.  A  thoufand 
times  we  have  formed  pious  refolutions ;  we  have  project- 
ed to  carry  to  a  certain  point,  the  detail  of  our  duties  and 
conduct  ;  but  the  execution  has  always  much  diminifhed 
from  the  ardour  of  our  projects ;  and  has  refted  at  a  degree 
much  below  the  one  to  which  we  wifhed  to  raife  ourfelves  : 
Thus,  the  lukewarm  Chriftian,  propofing  to  himfelf  no 
higher  point  of  virtue,  than  to  fhun  guilt ;  looking  precise- 
ly to  precept,  that  is  to  fay,  to  that  rigorous  and  precife 
point  of  the  law,  immediately  below  which  is  prevarica- 
tion and  death  :  He  infallibly  refts  below,  and  never  reaches 
that  efTential  point,  which  he  had  propofed  to  himfelf  :  It  is, 
therefore,  an  inconteflible  maxim,  that  we  mud  undertake 
much,  to  execute  little  ;  and  look  very  high,  to  attain  at 
leaft  the  middle.  Now,  this  maxim,  fo  fure  with  regard 
even  to  the  mod  juft,  is  much  more  fo  with  refpecT  to  the 
lukewarm  and  infidel  foul  :  For  coldnefs,  more  ilrongly 
binding  all  his  ties,  and  augmenting  the  weight  of  his  cor- 
ruption and  rnifery,  it  is  principally  him,  who  ought  to 
take  this  grapd  light,  in  order  to  attain  at  leafi.  the  loweit 

degree ; 


I^o  •     SERMON     V. 

degree  ;  and  in  his  counfels  with  himfelf,  propofe  perfec- 
tion, if  he  wifhes  to  reft,  even  at  the  obfervance  of  pre- 
cept :  Above  all,  it  is  to- him  that  we  may  truly  fay,  that 
by  fettling  in  his  mind,  only  to  fhun  guilt,  loaded  as  he  is 
with  the  weight  of  his  coldnefs  and  infidelities,  he  will  al- 
ways alight  at  a  place  very  diftant  from  the  one  he  expect- 
ed to  reach  ;  and  the  line  of  guilt  being  immediately  below 
this  commodious  and  fenfual  virtue,  the  very  fame  efforts 
he  made,  as  he  thought  to  fhun  it,  will  only  ferve  to  con- 
duel:  him  to  it.  Thefe  are  reafons,  drawn  entirely  from 
the  weaknefs  the  ftrengthened  paffions  leave  to  the  luke- 
warm and  infidel  foul ;  and  which  inevitably  lead  it  to  ruin. 

The  only  reafon,  however,  you  allege  to  us,  for  perfe- 
vering  in  this  dangerous  ftate,  is,  that  you  are  weak,  and 
totally  unable  to  fupport  a  more  retired,  limited,  mortified, 
and  perfect  manner  of  life  :  But  furely,  it  is  becaufe  you 
are  weak,  that  is  to  fay,  full  of  difgu ft  for  virtue,  of  love 
for  the  world,  and  of  fubjeclion  to  your  appetites,  that  a 
retired  and  mortified  life  becomes  indifpenfable :  It  is  be- 
caufe you  are  weak,  that  with  more  caution,  you  ought 
to  fhun  every  danger ;  take  a  greater  command  over  your- 
felf  ;  pray,  watch,  refufe  yourfelf  every  improper  gratifi- 
cation, and  attain  even  to  holy  excefles  of  Zealand  fervour, 
in  order  to  accomplifh  a  barrier  againft  your  weaknefs. 
You  are  weak  ?  And  becaufe  you  are  weak,  you  think  you 
are  entitled  toexpofe  yourfell  more  than  another  ;  to  dread 
danger  lefs  ;  with  more  tranquillity  and  indifference,  to 
neglect  the  neceffary  remedies  ;  to  allow  more  to  your  ap- 
petites ;  to  prefcrve  a  ilronger  attachment  to  the  world,  and 
every  thing  which  can  corrupt  the  heart  ?  What  illufion  ! 
You  make  your  weaknefs  then  the  title  of  your  fecurity  ? 
In  the  neceflities  you  have  to  watch  andjpray,  you  find 
then   the  privilege    of  difpenfing  with  them  !  And  fincc, 

when 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  1^1 

when  is  it,  that  the  fick  are  authorifed  to  allow  themfelves 
greater  excefles,  and  make  ufe  of  lefs  precaution,  than 
thofe  who  enjoy  a  perfect  health  ?  Privation  has  always 
been  the  way  of  the  weak  and  infirm;  and  to  allege  your 
weaknefs  as  a  right  of  difpenfation  from  a  more  fervent 
and  Chriftian  life,  is  like  enumerating  your  complaints,  in 
order  to  perfuade  us  that  you  have  no  occafion  for  medi- 
cine. Second  reafon,  drawn  from  the  paflions,  which  are 
ftrengthened  in  a  Hate  of  lukewarmnefs,  and  which  proves, 
that  this  ftate  always  ends  in  a  departure  from  virtue,  and 
the  lofs  of  righteoufnefs. 

To  all  thefe  reafons,  I  fhould  add  a  third,  drawn  from 
the  external  fuccours  of  religion,  neceflary  to  the  fupport 
of  piety  ;  and  which  become  ufelefs  to  the  lukewarm  and 
infidel  foul. 

The  Holy  Sacrament  not  only  becomes  of  no  utility, 
bnt  even  dangerous  to  him  ;  either  by  the  coldnefs  with 
which  he  approaches  it,  or  by  the  vain  confidence  with 
which  it  infpires  him  ;  it  is  no  longer  a  refource  for  him  ; 
it  has  loft  its  effeft,  like  medicines  too  frequently  made  ufe 
of;  it  amufes  his  languor,  but  cannot  cure  him  :  It  is  like 
the  food  of  the  ftrong  and  healthy,  which  fo  far  from  re- 
eflablifliing,  completes  the  ruin  of  the  weak  ftomach  :  It 
is  the  breath  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which,  unable  to  re-illu- 
minate the  ftill  fmoaking  fpark,  entirely  extinguishes  it ; 
that  is  to  fay,  that  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  re- 
ceived in  a  lukewarm  and  infidel  heart,  no  longer  operat- 
ing there  an  increafe  of  life  and  ftrength,  never  fails,  foon- 
er  or  later,  to  operate  the  death  and  condemnation  attached 
to  the  abufe  of  thefe  divine  remedies. 

Prayer 


1,52  SERMON    V, 

Prayer,  that  channel  of  grace,  that  nourlfhment  to  a 
faithful  heart  ;  that  fweetener  of  piety  ;  that  refuge  againft 
all  attacks  of  the  enemy  ;  that  cry  of  an  affected  foul, 
Which  renders  the  Lord  fo  attentive  to  his  neceflities  : 
Prayer,  without  which  the  Almighty  no  longer  makes  him- 
felt'felt  within  us  ;  without  which  we  no  longer  know  our 
father  ;  we  no  longer  render  thanks  to  our  benefactor,  nor 
appeafe  our  judge  ;  we  expofe  no  longer  our  wounds  to 
our  phyfician  :  We  live  without  God  in  the  world  :  Pray- 
er, in  a  word,  fo  necelTary  to  the  molt  eftablifhed  virtue, 
to  the  lukewarm  foul,  is  no  longer  but  the  wearifom'e  oc- 
cupation of  a  diffracted  mind  ;  of  a  heart  dry,  and  fhared 
betwixt  a  thoufand  foreign  affections.  He  no  longer  ex- 
periences that  love,  thofe  confolations,  which  are  the  fruit 
of  a  fervent  and  faithful  life  ;  Pie  no  longer,  as  if  with  a 
new  light,  fees  the  holy  truths,  which  confirm  the  foul  in 
its  contempt  for  the  world,  and  love  for  the  things  of  hea- 
ven ;  and  which,  after  its  departure  hence,  make  it  regard 
with  new  difguft  every  thing  which  foolifh  man  admires  : 
He  leaves  it,  no  longer  filled  with  that  lively  faith  which 
reckons  as  nothing,  all  the  obftacles  and  difgufts  of  virtue, 
and  with  a  holy  zeal,  devours  all  its  forrows  :  He  no  long* 
er  fVels  after  it,  more  love  for  his  duty,  and  horror  at  the 
world  ;  more  determination  to  fly  from  its  dangers  ;  more 
light  to  know  its  nothingnefs  and  mifery,  and  flrength  to 
hate  and  ftruggle  with  himfelf ;  more  terror  for  the  judg- 
ments of  God,  and  compunclion  for  his  own  weakneffes  : 
He  leaves  it,  only  more  fatigued  than  before,  with  virtue ; 
more  filled  with  the  phantoms  of  the  world,  which  in  the 
moment  when  at  the  feet  of  the  Almighty,  have,  it  ap- 
pears, agitated  more  brifkly  his  imagination,  blafled  and 
flained  by  all  thofe  images ;  more  happy,  by  being  quit  of" 

a  bur- 


STATE  OF  LUKEWARMNESS.  133 

a  burdenfome  duty,  where  he  has  experienced  nothing  fo 
agreeable,  as  the  pleafure  of  finding  it  over  ;  more  eager, 
by  amufements  and  infidelities,  to  fupply  this  moment  ot 
wearinefs  and  pain  ;  in  a  word,  more  diftant  from  God, 
whom  he  has  irritated  by  the  infidelity  and  irreverence  oi 
his  prayer.  Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  fruit  which  he 
reaps  from  it.  In  a  word,  all  the  external  duties  of  reli- 
gion, which  fupport  and  roufe  piety,  are  no  longer  to  the 
lukewarm  Chriftian,  but  dead  and  inanimate  cuftoms, 
where  his  heart  is  not;  where  there  is  more  of  habit,  than 
of  love  or  fpirit  of  piety  ;  and  where  the  only  difpofition 
he  brings  is  the  wearinefs  and  languor,  of  always  doing 
the  fame  thing. 

Thus,  my  brethren,  the  grace  of  this  foul,  being  con- 
tinually attacked  and  weakened,  either  by  the  practices  of 
the  world,  which  it  allows  itfelf,  or  by  thofe  of  piety, 
which  it  abufes  ;  either  by  fenfual  obje&s  which  nourifh 
its  corruption,  or  by  thofe  of  religion,  which  increafe  its 
difgufts ;  either  by  the  pleafures  which  enervate  it,  or  by 
the  duties  which  fatigue  it ;  all  uniting  to  make  it  bend 
towards  ruin,  and  nothing  fupporting  it  :  Alas  !  what  fate 
can  it  promife  itfelf  !  Can  the  lamp  without  oil,  long  con- 
tinue to  give  light  ?  The  tree  which  no  longer  draws  nou- 
rifhment  from  the  earth,  can  it  fail  to  wither,  and  be  de- 
voted to  the  fire  ?  Now,  fuch  is  the  fituation  of  the  luke- 
warm Chriftian  ;  entirely  delivered  up  tohimfelf,  nothing 
fupports  him ;  furrounded  by  wearinefs  and  difgufts,  no- 
thing reanimates  him  ;  full  of  weaknefs  and  ot  languor, 
nothing  prote£ls  him  ;  every  confolation  of  the  juft  foul, 
is  to  him  an  increafe  of  languor  ;  every  thing  which  gives 
fupport  to  a  faithful  Chriftian,  difgufts  and  overpowers 
him  ;  whatever  renders  the  yoke  more  eafy  to  others,  makes 
Lis  more  burdenfome  ;  and  the  fuccours  of  piety  are  no 
longer  but  hi."  fatigues,  or  his  crimes.  Now,  in  this  ftate, 
Vol.  I.  U  O  my 


1,54  SERMON     V. 

O  my  God !  almoft  abandoned  by  thy  grace,  tired  of  thy 
yoke,  difgu fled  with  himfelf,  as  well  as  with  virtue,  weak- 
ened by  difeafes  and  their  remedies,  ftaggering  at  every  ftep, 
a  breath  overturns  him  ;  he  himfelf  leans  towards  his  fall, 
without  any  additional  or  foreign  impreflion ;  and  to  fee 
him  fall,  there  is  no  neceflity  for  his  being  attacked. 

Thefe  are  the  reafons,  which  prove  the  certainty  of  the 
lofs  of  righteoufnefs  in  a  lukewarm  and  infidel  life.  But 
are  fo  many  proofs  neceflary,  my  dear  hearer,  when  your  own 
misfortunes  have  fo  fadly  inftru&ed  you  ?  Remember  from 
whence  you  are  fallen,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  formerly 
faid  to  a  lukewarm  and  infidel  foul :  Remount  to  the  fource 
of  the  diforders  under  which  you  flill  bend  :  You  will  find 
it  in  the  negligence  and  infidelity  of  which  we  fpeak.  A 
birth  of  paflion  too  feebly  rejected,  an  occafion  of  danger 
too  much  frequented,  practices  of  piety  too  frequently 
omitted  or  defpifed,  convenience  too  fenfually  fought 
after,  defires  of  pleafing  too  much  liftened  to,  dangerous 
writings  too  little  avoided  ;  the  fource  is  almoft  imper- 
ceptible :  The  torrent  of  iniquity  proceeding  from  it,  has 
completely  inundated  the  capacity  of  your  foul  :  It  was 
only  a  fpark  which  has  lighted  up  this  great  conflagration  ; 
it  was  a  morfel  of  leaven,  which,  in  the  end,  has  ferment- 
ed, and  corrupted  the  whole  mafs.  You  never  believed  it 
poflible,  that  you  could  be,  what  at  prefent  you  are  : 
Whatever  was  faid  to  you  on  this  fubjecl;,  you  heard  as 
exaggerations  of  zeal  and  fpirituality  :  You  would  then 
have  come  forward  of  your  own  accord,  in  order  to  clear 
yourfelf  of  certain  fleps,  for  which  you  now  feel  not  the 
fmallefl  remorfe  :  Remember  from  whence  you  arc  fallen  : 
Confider  the  depth  of  the  abyfs  into  which  you  are  plung- 
ed :  It  is  relaxation  and  flight  infidelities,  which  by  degrees 
have  conducted  you  to  it.  Once  more,  remember  it ;  and 
fee,  if  that  can  be  denominated  a  furc  or  durable  ftate, 
which  has  brought  you  to  the  precipice.  Such 


STATE  OF  LUKEWAHMNESS.  lg£ 

Such  is  the  ufual  artifice  of  Satan  :  He  never  at  firfl  pro- 
pofes  guilt ;  that  would  frighten  away  his  prey,  and  re- 
move it  beyond  the  reach  of  his  furprifes  :  Too  well  he 
knows  the  road  for  entering  the  heart  ;  he  knows  that  he 
muft  gradually  confirm  the  timid  conicience  againfl  the  hor- 
ror of  guilt,  and  propofe  nothing  at  firfl:  but  honeft  purpo- 
fes,  and  certain  limits  in  pleafure  :  It  is  not  boldly  like  the 
lion,  he  at  firfl  attacks  ;  it  is  warily  like  the  ferpent :  He 
does  not  lead  you  flraight  to  the  gulf ;  he  conduces  you 
there  by  winding  paths.  No,  my  brethren,  crimes  are  ne- 
ver the  firfl  effays  of  the  heart.  David  was  imprudent  and 
flothful,  before  he  became  an  adulterer:  Solomon  had  al- 
lowed himfelf  to  be  feduced  and  enervated  by  the  delights 
and  magnificence  of  royalty,  before  he  publicly  appeared 
in  the  midft  of  lewd  women  :  Judas  had  given  up.  his 
heart  to  money,  before  he  put  a  price  upon  his  mafler : 
Peter  was  prefumptuous  before  he  renounced  the  truth. 
Vice  has  its  progrefs,  as  well  as  virtue:  As  the  day,  fays 
the  Prophet,  inftrucls  the  day,  thus  the  night  gives  melan- 
choly leffons  to  the  night ;  and  there  is  not  far  betwixt  a 
ffate,  which  fufpends  all  the  grace  of  protection,  fortifies 
all  the  paffions,  renders  ufelefs  all  the  fuccours  of  piety, 
and  a  ffate  where  it  is  entirely  extinct. 

What  then,  my  dear  hearer,  can  confirm  or  comfort  you, 
in  this  life  of  negligence  and  infidelity  ?  Is  it  that  exemp- 
tion from  guilt  you  have  hitherto  preferved  ?  But  I  have 
fliewn  you,  that  it  is  either  guilt  itfelf,  or  that  it  will  not 
fail,  foon  to  lead  you  to  it  :  Is  it  the  love  of  eafe  ?  But 
in  that,  you  enjoy  neither  the  pleafures  of  the  wqrld,  nor 
the  confolations  of  virtue  :  Is  it  the  allurance  that  the  Al- 
mighty requires  no  more  of  you  ?  But  how  can  the  luke- 
warm and  unfaithful  foul  fatisfy  or  pleafe  him,  when  irom 
his  mouth  he  rejects  him  ?  Is  it  the  irregularity  in  which  the 

generality 


1^6  SERMON   V. 

generality  of  men  live,  and  who  carry  it  to  an  excefs 
which  you  avoid  ?  But  their  fate  is  perhaps  lefs  to  be 
mourned,  and  lefs  defperate  than  your  own ;  They  at  leaft 
know  their  malady,  while  you  regard  your  own  as  a  ftate 
of  perfect  health.  Is  it  the  dread  of  being  unable  to  fup- 
port  a  more  mortified,  watchful,  and  Chriflian  life  ?  But 
fince  you  have  hitherto  been  able  to  fupport  fome  remains 
of  virtue  and  innocence,  without  the  comforts  and  confola- 
tions  of  grace,  and  in  fpite  of  the  wearinefTes  and  difgufts 
which  your  lukewarmnefs  has  fpread  through  all  your  du- 
ties, what  will  it  be  when  the  Spirit  of  God,  mall  foften 
your  yoke,  and  when  a  more  fervent  and  faithful  life,  mall 
have  reftored  to  you  all  the  grace  and  confolations,  of  which 
your  lukewarmnefs  has  deprived  you?  Piety  is  never  fad, 
or  infupportable,  but  when  it  is  cold  and  unfaithful. 

Rife  then,  fays  a  prophet,  wicked  and  flothful  foul: 
Break  the  fatal  charm,  which  lulls,  and  chains  the  to  thine 
indolence.  The  Lord  whom  thou  believeft  to  ferve,  be- 
caufe  thou  do  ft  not  openly  affront  him,  is  not  the  God  of 
the  wicked,  but  of  the  faithful ;  he  is  not  the  rewarder  of 
idlenefs  and  floth,  but  of  tears,  watchings,  and  combats  : 
He  eftablifheth  not  in  his  abodes,  and  in  his  everlafting  city, 
the  ufelefs,  but  the  vigilant  and  laborious  fervant :  And  his 
kingdom,  fays  the  Apoftle,  is  not  of  flefh  and  blood,  that  is 
to  fay,  of  an  unworthy  effeminacy,  and  a  life  devoted  to 
the  appetites,  but  the  ftrength  and  virtue  of  God  ;  namely, 
a  continued  vigilance  ;  a  generous  facrifice  of  all  our  incli- 
nations ;  a  conftant  contempt  of  all  things  which  pafs 
away  ;  and  a  tender  and  ardent  defire  for  thofe  invifible 
bleflings  which  fade  not,  nor  even  pafs  away  :  Which  may 
God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  grant  to  all  affemblcd  here. 
Amen. 

SERMON 


SERMON  VI. 

ON  EVIL-SPEAKING, 


John  ii.  24, 

But  Jefus  did  not  commit  himfelf  unto  them  ;  becaufe  he 
knew  all  men. 


X  hese  were  the  fame  Pharifees,  who  a  little  before  had 
been  decrying  to  the  people,  the  aftions  of  Jefus  Chrift, 
and  endeavouring  to  poifon  the  purity  and  fan£tity  of  his 
words,  who  now  make  a  fhew  of  believing  in  him,  and 
clafling  themfelves  amongft  his  difcipies.  And  fuch  is  the 
character  of  the  evil-fpeaker  ;  under  the  mark  of  efteem, 
and  the  flattering  expreffions  of  friendfhip,  to  conceal  the 
gall  and  bitternefs  of  flander. 

Now,  although  this  be  perhaps  the  only  vice,  which  no 
eircumftance  can  palliate,  it  is  the  one  we  are  raoft  inge- 
nious in  concealing  from  ourfelves,  and  to  which  piety  and 
the  world  at  prefent  fhow  the  greateft  indulgence.  Not, 
that  the  character  of  a  flanderer  is  not  equally  odious  to 
men,  as,  according  to  the  expreflion  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  it 
is  abominable  in  the  fight  of  God  ;  but  in  that  number, 
they  comprife  only  particular  defamers  of  a  blacker  and 
more  avowed  malignity,  who  deal  their  blows  indifcrimi- 
nately,  and  without  art ;  and  who,  with  fufficient  malice 
to  cenftue,  are  deflitute  of  the  wit   neceflary  to   pleufe : 

Now, 


3^8  SERMON     Vi. 

Now,  the  defamers  of  that  defcription  are  more  rare ;  and 
had  we  only  them  to  addrefs  ourfelves  to,  it  would  be  fuf- 
flcent  at  prefent  to  point  out,  how  much  unworthy  of  rea- 
fon  and  religion  this  vice  is,  to  infpire  with  a  juft  detefta- 
tion  of  it,  thofe  who  feel  themfelves  guilty. 

But  there  is  another  defcription  of  flanderers,  who  con- 
demn the  vice,  yet  allow  themfelves  the  practice  ot  it; 
who,  without  regard,  defame  their  brethren,  yet  applaud 
themfelves  for  circumfpe&ion  and  moderation  ;  who  carry 
the  ftingto  the  heart  ;  but,  becaufe  it  is  more  brilliant  and 
piercing,  perceive  not  the  wound  it  has  made.  Now,  de- 
famers of  this  character  are  every  where  to  be  found ;  the 
world  is  filled  with  them;  even  the  holy  afylums  are  not 
free;  this  vice  is  the  bond  of  union  to  the  aflemblies  of  Tin- 
ners ;  it  often  finds  its  way  even  into  the  fociety  of  the  juft  ; 
and  we  may  fafely  fay,  that  all  have  erred  from  the  flrait 
road ;  and  there  is  not  one,  who  has  preferved  his  tongue 
pure,  and  his  lips  undefiled. 

It  is  proper,  then,  my  brethren,  to  expofe  at  prefent  the 
illufion  of  the  pretexts,  made  ufe  of  every  day  in  the  world, 
in  juflification  of  this  vice  ;  and  to  attack  it  in  the  circum- 
ftances,  where  you  believe  it  mofl  innocent;  for  were  I  to 
defcribe  it  to  you,  in  general,  with  all  its  meannefs,  cru- 
elty, and  irreparability,  you  would  no  longer  apply  it  to 
yourfelves  ;  and  far  from  infpiring  you  with  horror  at  it,  I 
fhould  be  accefTary  towards  your  perfuafion,  that  you  are 
face  from  its  guilt. 

Now,  what  are  the  pretexts,  which,  in  your  eyes,  foften, 
er  juilify  the  vice  of  evil-fpeaking?  In  the  firft  place,  It 
is  the  lightnefs  of  the  faults  you  cenfure  :  We  perfuade 
ourfelves,  that  as  it  is  not  a   matter  of  culpability,  there 

can  not 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  l$g 

cannot  likewife  be  much  harm  in  cenfuring  it.  2dly,  It  is 
the  public  notoriety,  by  which  thofe  to  whom  we  fpeak, 
being  already  informed  of  what  is  reprehenfible  in  our  bro- 
ther, no  lofs  of  reputation  can  be  the  confequence  of  our 
difcourfes.  Laftly,  Zeal  for  truth,  and  the  glory  of  God, 
which  does  not  permit  us  to  be  filent  on  thofe  disorders 
which  difhonour  him.  Now,  tothefe  three  pretexts,  let  us 
oppofe  three  incontrovertible  truths.  To  the  pretext  of 
the  lightnefs  of  the  faults;  that  the  more  the  faults  which 
you  cenfure  are  light,  the  more  is  the  (lander  unjuft  :  Firft 
Truth.  To  the  pretext  of  the  public  notoriety ;  that  the 
more  the  faults  of  our  brethren  are  known,  the  more  cruel 
is  the  flander  which  cenfures  them  :  Second  Truth.  To 
the  pretext  of  zeal  ;  that  the  fame  charity,  which,  in  piety, 
makes  us  hate  finners,  makes  us  likewife  cover  up  the  mul- 
titude of  their  faults  :  Laft  Truth. 

Part  I.  The  tongue,  fays  the  Apoflle  James,  is  a  de- 
vouring fire,  a  world  of  iniquity,  an  unruly  evil,  full  of 
deadly  poifon.  And  behold,  what  I  would  have  applied  to 
the  tongue  of  the  evil-fpeaker,  had  I  undertaken  to  give 
you  a  juft  and  natural  idea  of  all  the  enormity  of  this  vice  : 
I  would  have  faid,  that  the  tongue  of  the  flanderer  is  a  de- 
vouring fire,  which  tarnifhes  whatever  it  touches ;  which 
exercifes  its  fury  on  the  good  grain,  equally  as  on  the  chaff; 
on  the  profane,  as  on  thefacred  ;  which,  wherever  it  pafTes, 
Inaves  only  defolation  and  ruin  ;  digs  even  into  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  and  fixes  itfelf  on  things  the  molt  hidden; 
turns  into  vile  afhes,  what,  only  a  moment  before,  had  ap- 
peared to  us  fo  precious  and  brilliant  ;  a£h  with  more  vio- 
lence and  danger  than  ever,  in  the  time  when  it  was  appa- 
rently fmothered  up,  and  almofl  extincl ;  which  blackens, 
what  it  cannot  canfume  ;  and  fometimes  fparkles  and  de- 
lights before  it  deftroys.     I  would  have  told  you,  that  qvU. 

Ipeakmg 


l6o  SERMON    VI. 

fpeaking  is  an  aHemblage  of  iniquity  ;  a  fecret  pride,  which 
difcovers  to  us  the  mote  in  our  brother's  eye,  but  hides  the 
beam  which  is  our  own  ;  a  mean  envy,  which  hurt  at  the 
talents  or  profperity  of  others,  makes  them  the  fubjecT:  of 
its  cenfures,  and  ftudies  to  dim  the  fplendour  of  whatever 
outfhines  itfelf;  a  difguifed  hatred,  which  fheds  in  its 
fpeeches,  the  hidden  venom  of  the  heart ;  an  unworthy  du- 
plicity, which  praifes  to  the  face,  and  tears  in  pieces  be- 
behind  the  back ;  a  fhameful  levity,  which  has  no  com- 
mand over  itfelf,  or  words,  and  often  facrifices  both  for- 
tune and  comfort,  to  the  imprudence  of  an  amuiing  con- 
verfation ;  a  deliberate  barbarity,  which  goes  to  pierce 
your  abfcnt  brother;  a  fcandal,  where  you  become  a  fub- 
jecT; of  fhame  and  fin  to  thofe  who  liflen  to  you  ;  an  injuf- 
tice,  where  you  ravi(h  from  your  brother,  what  is  deareft 
to  him.  I  would  have  faid  that  (lander  is  a  reftlefs  evil ; 
which  difturbs  fociety  ;  fpreads  diffention  through  cities 
and  countries  ;  difunites  the  ftricleft  friendfhips  ;  is  the 
fource  of  hatred  and  revenge ;  fills,  wherever  it  enters, 
with  difturbances  and  confufion ;  and,  everywhere,  is  an 
enemy  to  peace,  comfort,  and  Chriftian  good  breeding. 
Laftly,  I  would  have  added,  that  it  is  an  evil  full  of  dead- 
ly poifon;  whatever  flows  from  it  is  infected,  and  poifons 
whatever  it  approaches  ;  that  even  its  praifes  areimpoifen- 
ed  ;  its  applaufes,  malicious ;  its  filence,  criminal ;  its 
geflures,  motions  and  looks,  have  all  their  venom,  and 
fpread  it  each  in  their  way. 

Behold,  what  in  this  difcourfe,  it  would  have  been  my 
duty,  more  at  large,  to  have  expofed  to  your  view,  had  I 
not  propofed  only  to  paint  to  you,  the  vilenefs  of  the  vice, 
which  I  am  now  going  to  combat;  but  as  I  have  already 
faid,  thefc  are  only  general  inveclives,  which  none  apply 
to  themfelves.     The  more  odious  the  vice  is  rcprefented, 

the 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  l6l 

the  lefs  do  you  perceive  yourfelves  concerned  in  it ;  and 
though  you  acknowledge  the  principle,  you  make  no 
ufe  of  it,  in  the  regulation  of  your  manners  ;  becaufe,  in 
thefe  general  paintings,  we  always  find  features  which  re- 
ferable us  not.  I  wifh,  therefore,  to  confine  myfelf  at 
prefent,  to  the  (ingle  object  of  making  you  feel  all  the  in- 
judice  of  that  defcription  of  (lander,  which  you  think  the 
mod  innocent ;  and  lead  you  (hould  not  feel  your- 
felves connected  with  what  I  (hall  fay,  I  (hall  attack  it,  on- 
ly in  the  pretexts  which  you  continually  employ  in  its  juf- 
tification. 

Now  the  firft  pretext,  which  authorifes  in  the  world  al- 
moft  all  the  defamations,  and  is  the  caufe  that  our  conver- 
fations  are  now  continual  ccnfures  upon  our  brethren,  is 
the  pretended  infignificancy  of  the  vices  weexpofe  to  view. 
We  would  wifti  not  to  tarnifh  a  man  of  character,  or  ruin 
his  fortune,  by  dishonouring  him  in  the  world  ;  to  (lain  the 
principles  of  a  woman's  conduct,  by  entering  into  the  effen- 
tial  points  of  it ;  that  would  be  too  infamous  and  mean : 
But  upon  a  thoufand  faults,  which  lead  our  judgment  to  be- 
lieve them  capable  of  all  the  reft  ;  to  infpire  the  minds  of 
thofe  who  liften  to  us  with  a  thoufand  fufpicions,  which 
point  out  what  we  dare  not  fay ;  to  make  fatirical  remarks, 
which  difcover  a  myftery,  where  no  perfon  before  had  per- 
ceived the  lead  intention  of  concealment ;  by  poifonous 
interpretations,  to  give  an  air  of  ridicule  to  manners  which 
had  hitherto  efcaped  obfervation  ;  to  let  every  thing,  on 
certain  points,  be  clearly  underdood,  while  proteding,  that 
they  are  incapable  themfelves  of  cunning  or  deceit,  is  what 
the  world  makes  little  fcfuple  of;  and  though  the  mo- 
tives, the  circumdances,  and  the  effects  of  thefe  difcour- 
fes,  be  highly  criminal,  yet   gaiety  and  livelincfs  excufe 

Vol.  I.  W  their 


162  SERMON     VI. 

their  malignity,  to  thofe  who  liften  to  us,  and  even  conceal 
from  ourfelves  their  atrocity. 

I  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  the  motives.  I  know  that  it  is 
above  all  by  theinnocency  of  the  intention,  that  they  pre- 
tend to  juftify  themfelves ;  that  you  continually  fay,  that 
your  defign  is  not  to  tarnifh  the  reputation  of  your  bro- 
ther, but  innocently  to  divert  yourfelves  with  faults  which 
do  notdifhonour  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  You,  my 
dear  hearer,  to  divert  yourfelf  with  his  faults  J  But  what 
is  that  cruel  pleafure,  which  carries  forrow  and  bitternefs 
to  the  heart  of  your  brother  ?  Where  is  the  innocency  of 
an  amufement,  whofe  fource  fprings  from  vices,  which 
ought  to  infpire  you  with  companion  and  grief?  If  Jefus 
Chrift  forbid  us  in  the  gofpel,  to  invigorate  the  languors  of 
converfation  by  idle  words,  (hall  it  be  more  permitted  to 
you,  to  enliven  it  by  derifions  and  cenfures  ?  If  the  law 
curfe  him,  who  uncovers  the  nakednefs  of  his  relations, 
fhall  you,  who  add  raillery  and  infult  to  the  difcovery,  be 
more  protected  from  that  malediction  ?  If  whoever  call  his- 
brother  fool,  be  worthy,  according  to  Jefus  Chrift,  of 
eternal  fire  ;  fhall  he  who  renders  him  the  contempt  and 
laughing-ftock  of  a  profane  aflembly,  efcape  the  fame  pun- 
ifhment  ?  You,  to  amufe  yourfelf  with  his  faults  ?  But 
does  charity  delight  in  evil  ?  Is  frhat  rejoicing  in  the  Lord, 
as  commanded  by  the  Apoftle  ?  If  you  love  your  brother 
as  yourfelf,  can  you  delight  in  what  afflicls  him  ?  Ah ! 
The  church  formerly  held  in  horror  the  exhibitions  of  gla- 
diators, and  denied  that  believers,  brought  up  in  the  tender- 
nefs  and  benignity  of  Jefus  Chrift,  could  innocently  feaft 
their  eyes  with  the  blood  and  death  of  thefe  unfortunate 
flaves,  or  form  an  harmlefs  recreation  of  fo  inhuman  a  plea- 
fure. But  you  renew  moredeteftable  fhows,  toenliven  your 
languor:  You  bring  upon  theftage,  not  infamous  wretches 

devoted 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  163 

devoted  to  death,  but  members  of  Jefus  Chrift,  your  bre- 
thren ;  and  there  you  entertain  the  fpe&ators,  with  wounds, 
which  you  inflift  on  perfons  rendered  facred  by  baptifm. 

Is  it  then  neceflary  that  your  brother  mould  fuffer,  to 
amufe  you  ?  Can   you  find  no  delight  in  your  conven- 
tions, unlefs  his  blood,  as  I  may  lay,  is  furnifhed  towards 
your  iniquitous  pleafures  ?  Edify  each  other,  fays  St.  Paul, 
by  words,    of  peace  and  charity ;   relate   the  wonders  of 
God  towards  the  juft,  the  hiftory  of  his  mercies  to  fmners  ; 
recal  the  virtue  of  thofe,  who  with  the  figns  of  faith  have 
preceded  us  ;  make  an  agreeable  relaxation  to  your felves, 
in  reciting  the  pious  examples  of  your  brethren  with  whom 
you  live  ;  with  a  religious  joy,  fpeak  of  the  victories  of 
faith;    of   the    agrandifement   of    the  kingdom   of   Jefus 
Chrift;  of  the  eftablifhment  of  truth,  and  the  extinction 
of  error  ;  of  the  favours  which  Jefus  Chrift  bellows  on  his 
church,  by  raifing  up  in  it  faithful  paftors,  enlightened 
members,  and  religious  princes  ;  animate  yourfelves  to  vir- 
tue, by  contemplating  the  little  folidity  of  the  world,  the 
emptinefs  of  pleafures,    and   the   unhappinefs   of  finners, 
who  yield  themfelves  up  to  their  unruly  paffions.  Are  thefe 
grand  objecls  not  worthy  the  delight  of  Chriftians  ?   It  was 
thus,  however,  that  the  firft  believers  rejoiced  in  the  Lord, 
and  from  the  fweets  of  their  converfations,   formed  one  of 
the  molt  holy    confolations  to  their  temporal   calamities. 
It  is  the  heart  my  brethren,  which  decides  upon  our  plea- 
lures  :  A  corrupted  heart  feels  no  delight,  but  in  what  re-, 
cals  to  him  the  image  of  his  vices  :  Innocent  delights,    are 
only  fuitable  to  virtue. 

In  effect,  you  excufe  the  malignity  of  your  cenfures,  by 
the  innocency  of  your  intentions.  But  fathom  the  fecret 
of  your  heart :  Whence  comes    it,  that  your  farcafms  are 

always 


164  SERMON     VI. 

always  pointed  to  fuch  an  individual,  and  that  you  never 
amufe  yourfelf  with  more  wit,  or  more  agreeably,  than  in 
recalling  his  faults  ?  May  it  not  proceed  from  a  fecret  jea- 
loufy  ?  Do  not  his  talents,  fortune,  credit,  ftation,  or  cha- 
racter, hurt  you  more  than  his  faults  ?  Would  you  find  him 
fo  fit  a  lubjeft  for  cenfure,  had  he  fewer  of  thofe  qualities 
which  exalt  him  above  you  ?  Would  you  experience  fuch 
pleafure  in  expofing  his  foibles,  did  not  the  world  find 
qualities  in  him  both  valuable  and  praife-worthy  ?  Would 
Saul  have  fo  often  repeated  with  fuch  pleafure,  that  David 
was  only  the  fon  of  JefTe,  had  he  not  confidered  him  as  a 
rival  more  deferving  than  himfelf  of  the  empire  ?  Whence 
comes  it,  that  the  faults  of  all  others  find  you  more  indul- 
gent ?  That  elfewhere  you  excufe  every  thing,  but  here 
every  circumftance  comes  empoifened  from  your  mouth  ? 
Go  to  the  fource,  and  examine,  if  it  is  not  fome  fecret 
root  of  bitternefs  in  your  heart  ?  And  can  you  pretend  to 
juftify,  by  theinnocency  of  the  intention,  difcourfes  which 
flow  from  fo  corrupted  a  principle  ?  You  maintain  that  it  is 
neither  from  hatred  nor  jealoufy  againft  your  brother  :  I 
wifh  to  believe  it ;  but  in  your  farcafms  may  there  not  be 
motives,  perhaps  ftill  more  fhameful  and  mean  ?  Is  it  not 
your  wifh,  to  render  yourfelf  agreeable,  by  turning  your 
brother  into  an  objecl:  of  contempt  and  ridicule  ?  Do  you 
not  facrifice  his  character  to  your  fortune  ?  Courts  are  al- 
ways fo  filled  with  thefe  adulatory,  and  fordidly  interefled 
fatires,  on  each  other!  The  great  are  to  be  pitied,  whenever 
they  yield  themfelves  up  to  unwarrantable  averfions.  Vi- 
ces are  foon  found  out,  even  in  that  virtue  itfelf  which  dif- 
pleafes  them. 

But  after  all,  you  do  not  feel  yourfelves  guilty,  you 
fay,  of  all  thefe  vile  motives;  and  that  it  is  merely  through 
indifcrction,  and  levity  of  fpeech,  if  it  fometimes  happen 

that 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  165 

that  you  defame  your  brethren.     But  is  it  by  that  you  can 
fuppofe  yourfelves  more  innocent  ?  Levity  and  indifcre- 
tion  ;  that  vice,  fo  unworthy  of  the  gravity  of  a  Chriftian, 
fo  diftant  from  the  ferioufnefs  and  folidity  of  faith,  and  fo 
often  condemned  in  the  gofpel,  can  itjuftify  another  vice  ? 
What  matters  it  to  the  brother  whom  you  ftab,  whether  it 
be  done  through  indifcretion  or  malice  ?  Does  an  arrow, 
unwittingly   drawn,    make  a  lefs   dangerous,    or   {lighter 
wound,  than  if  fent  on  purpofe  ?  Is  the  deadly  blow,  which 
you  give  to  your  brother,  more  flight,  becaufe  it  was  lan- 
ced through  imprudence  and  levity  ?  And  what   fignifies 
the  innocency  of  the  intention,  when  the  aftion  is  a  crime  ? 
But  befides,  Is  there  no  criminality  in  indifcretion,  with 
regard  to  the  reputation  of  your  brethren  ?  In  any  cafe  what- 
ever, can  more  circumfpeclion  and  prudence  be  required  ? 
Are  not  all  the  duties  of  Chriftianity  comprifed  in  that  of 
charity  ?  Does  not  all  religion,  as  I  may,  confift  in  that  : 
And  to  be  incapable  of  attention  and  care,  in   a  point    fo 
highly  eflential,  is  it  not  confidering  as  it  were,  all  the  reft 
as  a  fport  ?  Ah !  it  is  here  he  ought  to  put  a  guard  of  cir- 
cumfpeftion  on  his  tongue,  weigh  every  word,  put  them  to- 
gether, in  his  heart,  fays  the  fago  Ecclefiafticus,  and  let  them 
ripen  in  his  mouth.  Do  any  of  thefe  inconfiderate  fpeeches 
ever  efcapeyou,  againft  yourfelf  ?  Do  you  ever  fail  in  at- 
tention to  what  interefts  your  honour  or  glory  ?  What  in- 
defatigable cares  !  WThat  exertions  and  induilry,  to  make 
themprofper  !  To  what  lengths  we  fee  you  got  to  increafe 
your  intereft  or  improve  your  fortune  !  If  it  ever  happen, 
that  you  take  blame  to  yourfelf,  it  is  always  under  circum- 
llances  which  tend  to  your  praife  :  You   cenfure  in  your- 
felf, only    faults  which  do  you  honour  ;  and  in  confefling 
your  vices,  you  wifh  only   to  recapitulate  your  virtues  : 
Self-love  connects  every  thing  with  yourfelf.     Love  your 
brother  as  you  love  yourfelf,  and  every  thing  will  recal  to 

you 


l66  SERMON    VI. 

you  him  ;  you  will  be  incapable  of  indifcretien,  where  his  in- 
tereft  is  concerned,  and  will  no  longer  need  our  inftruc- 
tions,  in  refpecl;  to  what  you  owe  to  his  character  and  glory. 

But  if  thefe  flanders  which  you  call  trivial,  be  criminal 
in  their  motives,  they  are  not  lefs  fo  in  their  circumftan- 
ces. 

In  the  firft  place,  I  mould  make  you  obferve,  that  the 
world,  familiarized  with  guilt,  and  accuftomed  to  fee  the 
molt  heinous  vices,  now  become  the  vices  of  the  multi- 
tude, is  no  longer  fhocked  at  them  ;  denominates  light,  de- 
famations which  turn  upon  the  moft  criminal  and  fhameful 
weaknefies  :  Sufpicions  of  infidelity,  in  the  facred  bond 
of  marriage,  are  no  longer  a  marked  difcredit,  or  an  eflen- 
tial  ftain  ;  they  are  fources  of  derifion  and  pleafantry :  To 
accufe  a  courtier  of  infincerity  and  double-dealing,  is  no 
attack  upon  his  honour,  it  is  only  calling  a  ridicule  on  the 
proteftations  of  fincerity,  with  which  he  amufes  us  :  To 
fpread  the  fufpicion  of  hypocrify,  in  the  fincereft  piety, 
is  not  an  infult  to  God  through  his  faints,  it  is  a  language 
of  derifion,  which  cuftpm  has  rendered  common :  In  a 
word,  excepting  thofe  crimes  punifhable  by  the  public  au- 
thority, and  which  are  attended  with  the  lofs  of  credit  and 
property,  all  others  feem  trivial  and  become  the  ordinary 
Iubje£l  of  converfation,  and  of  the  public  cenfure. 

But  let  us  not  purfue  this  reflection  farther.  I  wifh  to 
allow  that  your  brother's  faults  are  light :  The  more  they 
are  light,  the  more  are  you  unjufl  in  heightening  them  : 
The  more  he  merits  indulgence  on  your  part,  the  more  are 
we  to  prefume  in  you,  a  malignity  of  obfervation,  from 
which  nothing  can  efcape  ;  a  natural  hardnefs  of  heart, 
which  can  excufe  nothing.  Were  the  faults  of  your  bro- 
ther 


ON  EVlL-SPtAKING.  167 

ther  important,  you  would  fpare  him,  you  fay  ;  you  would 
find  him  entitled  to  your  indulgence  :  Politenefs  and  reli- 
gion would  make  your  filence  a  duty  :  What !  becaufe  his 
weaknefTes  are  only  trivial,  you  find  him  lefs  worthy  of 
your  regard  ?  The  very  circumftance  which  ought  to  make 
him  refpe&able,  authorifes  you  in  making  him  the  butt  of 
your  farcafms  ?  Are  you  not,  fays  the  Apoftle,  become  a 
judge  of  iniquitous  thoughts  ?  And  your  eye,  is  it  then 
wicked,  only  becaufe  your  brother  is  good  ?  Befides,  the 
faults  which  you  cenfureare  light  ;  but  would  they  appear 
fo  to  you,  were  you  to  be  reproached  with  them  ?  When 
certain    difcourfes,    held  in  your  abfence,    have  reached 
your  ears,  and  which,  in  fa£t,  attacked  effentially,  neither 
your  honour  nor  probity,  but  only  acquainted  the  public 
with  fome  of  your  weakneffes,  what  have  been  your  fenfa- 
tions  ?  My  God  !  Then  it  was,  that  you  magnified  every 
thing  ;  that  every  circumftance  appeared  important  to  you  ; 
that,  not    fatisfied   with    exaggerating   the   malice    of  the 
words,  you  raked  up  the  fecret  of  the  intention,  and  hop- 
ed to  find  motives  ftill  more  odious  than  the  difcourfes.  In 
vain  are  you  told,  that  thefe  are  not  reproaches,  which  ef- 
fentially intereft  you,  and  at  the  worft  cannot  difgrace  you 
You  think  yourfelves  infulted  ;  you  mention  them  with 
bitter  complaints  ;  you  blaze  out,  and  are  no  longer  maf- 
ters  of  your  refentment ;  and  whilft  all  the  world  blames 
the  excefs  of  your  fenfibility,  you  alone  obftinately  perfift 
in  the  belief  of  its  being  a  ferious  affair,  and  that  your  ho- 
nour is  interefted  in  it.     Make  ufe  then,  of  this  rule  in 
the  faults  which  you  publifh  of  your  brother  :  Apply  the 
offence  to  yourfelves ;  everything  is  light,  which  is  againft 
him  ;  but  with  regard  to  what   touches  you,  the  fmallell 
circumftance  appears  important  to  your  pride,  and  worthy 
of  all  your  refentment. 

Laftly, 


l68  SERMON     VI. 

Laftly,  The  vices  which  you  cenfure  are  light ;  but  do 
you  add  nothing  of  your  own  to  them  ?  Do  you  faithful- 
ly exhibit  them  as  they  are  ?  In  their  relation,  do  you  ne- 
ver mingle  the  malignity  of  your  own  conjectures  ?  Do 
you  not  place  them  in  a  point  of  view,  different  from  their 
natural  ftate  ?  Do  you  not  embellifli  your  tale  ?  And  in  or- 
der to  make  the  hero  of  your  ridicule  agreeable,  do  you 
not  falhion  him  to  the  wifh  of  the  company,  and  not  fuch 
as  in  reality  he  is  ?  Do  you  never  accompany  your  fpeeches 
with  certain  geftures,  which  allow  all  to  be  underftood ; 
with  certain  expreffions,  which  open  the  minds  of  your 
hearers  to  a  thoufand  fufpicions,  equally  rafh,  as  difhon- 
ourable  ?  Even  with  a  certain  filence,  which  permits  more 
to  be  imagined,  than  any  thing  you  could  have  poflibly 
faid  ?  For,  how  difficult  it  is  to  confine  ourfelves  to  the 
bounds  of  truth,  when  we  are  no  longer  within  thofe  of 
charity  !  The  more  what  we  cenfure  is  light,  the  more  is 
calumny  to  be  dreaded  :  we  mull  embellifh  to  attract  atten- 
tion ;  and  we  become  calumniators,  where  we  did  not  fup- 
pofe  ourfelves  even  cenfurers. 

Behold  the  circumftances  which  regard  you  ;  but  if,  on 
their  account,  the  (landers  which  you  think  light,  be  high- 
ly criminal,  will  they  be  lefs  fo  with  refpecl:  to  the  indi- 
viduals whom  they  attack  ? 

In  the  Jirjl  place,  it  is  a  perfon,  perhaps  of  a  fex,  to 
whom,  efpecially  on  certain  points,  the  flighteft  flains  are 
important :  to  whom  it  is  a  difhonour  to  be  publicly  fpok- 
en  of ;  to  whom  raillery  becomes  an  infult,  and  every  fuf- 
picion  an  accufation  ;  in  a  word,  a  perfon,  whom  not  to 
praife  becomes  an  outrage,  and  a  difgrace  to  their  Ration  : 
Thus  St.  Paul  would  have  every  woman  to  be  adorned 

with 


ON   EVIL- SPEAKING.  169 

with  baftifulnefs  and  modefty ;  that  is  to  fay,  he  would  wifli 
thofe  virtues  to  be  as  confpicuous  in  them,  as  the  orna- 
ments with  which  they  are  covered  ;  and  the  higheft  eulo- 
gy which  the  Holy  Spirit  makes  on  Judith,  after  fpeaking 
of  her  beauty,  youth,  and  great  wealth,  is,  that  in  all  If- 
rael,  not  a  perfon  was  to  be  found  who  had  afperfed  her 
conduct  ;  and  that  her  reputation  correfponded  with  her 
virtue. 

2 My,  Your  cenfures  are  perhaps  pointed  towards  your 
fuperiors  ;  or  againft  thofe  whom  providence  has  eftablifh- 
cd  above  you,  and  to  whom  the  law  of  God  commands 
you  to  render  that  refpeft  and  fubmiffion  to  which  they  are 
entitled.  For  the  pride  which  hates  inferiority,  always  re- 
compenfes  itfelf,  by  finding  out  weaknefTes  and  foibles,  in 
thofe  to  whom  it  is  under  the  necefhty  of  yielding  obedi- 
ence ;  the  more  they  are  exalted,  the  more  they  are  expof- 
ed  to  our  cenfures  :  Malignity  is  even  more  quick  fighted 
in  regard  to  their  errors  ;  nothing,  in  their  actions,  is  par- 
doned ;  the  very  perfons  moll  loaded  with  their  kindnelfes, 
or  mod  honoured  by  their  familiarity,  are  frequently  thofe, 
who  moll  openly  publifh  their  imperfections  and  vices  ;  and 
befides  violating  the  facred  duty  of  refpe£t,  they  likewife 
render  themfelves  guilty  of  the  mean  and  fhameful  crime 
of  ingratitude. 

3^/v,  It  is  a  perfon,  perhaps  confeerated  to  God,  and 
eftablifhed  in  the  church,  whom  you  cenfure  ;  who,  engag- 
ed by  the  fan&ity  of  his  vocation,  to  more  exemplary, 
pure,  and  irreproachable  manners,  finds  himfclf  ftained 
and  difhonoured  by  cenfures,  which  would  not  affect  the 
reputation  of  perfons  of  the  world.  Thus  the  Lord,  in  the 
fcriptures,  curfeth  thofe  who  lhall  even  meddle  with  his 
anointed.     Neverthelefs,    the  traits  of   (lander   are  never 

Vol.  I.  X  m#re 


170  SERMON     VI. 

more  animated,  more  brilliant,  or  more  applauded  in  the 
world,  than  when  directed  againft  the  minifters  of  his  holy- 
altar  ;  the  world,  fo  indulgent  to  itfelF,  feems  to  have  pre- 
served its  Severity  only  on  their  account ;  and  for  them,  it 
has  eyes  more  cenforious,  and  a  tongue  more  empoifoned, 
than  for  the  reft  of  men.  It  is  true,  O  my  God,  that  our 
converfation  amongft  the  people  is  not  always  holy,  and  free 
from  reproach  ;  that  we  frequently  adopt  the  manners, 
luxury,  indolence,  idlenefs,  and  pleafures  of  the  world, 
againft  which  we  ought  to  ftruggle ;  that  we  hold  out  to 
believers,  more  examples  of  pride  and  negligence,  than  or. 
virtue  ;  that  we  are  more  jealous  of  pre-eminence,  than  o£ 
the  duties  of  our  calling ;  and  that  it  is  difficult  for  the 
world  to  honour  a  character,  which  we  ourfelves  difgrace. 
But  as  I  have  often  faid,  my  brethren,  our  infidelities 
ought  rather  to  be  the  Subject  of  your  tears,  than  of  your 
pleafantry  and  cenfures  :  God  generally  punifhes  the  dis- 
orders of  the  people,  by  the  corruption  of  the  priefts  ;  and 
the  moft  dreadful  Scourge  with  which  he  ftrikes  kingdoms 
and  empires,  is  that  of  not  railing  up  in  them  venerable 
paftors,  and  zealous  minifters,  who  may  ftem  the  torrent  of 
diflipation  ;  it  is  that  of  permitting  faith  and  religion  to  be- 
come weakened,  even  amongft  thofe  who  are  its  defenders 
and  depositaries  ;  that  the  light,  which  was  meant  to  inftruct 
you,  fhould  be  changed  into  darkneSs ;  that  the  co-opera- 
tors in  your  Salvation,  fhould  aSTift,  by  their  example,  to- 
wards your  deftru&ion ;  that  even  from  the  Sanctuary,  from 
whence  ought  to  proceed  only  the  good  favour  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  there  fhould  iffuea  Smell  of  death  and  Scandal  ;  and 
in  a  word,  that  abominations  fhould  find  their  way  even 
into  the  holy  place.  But  what  alteration  does  the  relaxa- 
tion of  our  manners,  make  in  the  Sanctity  of  the  vocation 
which  confecrates  us  ?  Are  the  Sacred  vafes,  which  Serve  on 
the  altar,  though  compofedof  a  mean  metal,  leSs  worthy  of 

your 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  tjl 

your  refpecl  ?  And  even  granting  the  minifler  may  merit 
your  contempt,  would  you  be  lefs  facriligious,  in  not  ref- 
pe&ing  his  miniftry  ? 

What  fhall  I  fay  ?  Your  detractions  and  cenfures,  are 
perhaps  directed  againft  perfons,  who  make  a  public  pro- 
feflion  of  piety,  and  whofe  virtue  your  hearers  formerly 
refpe&ed.  You  then  perfuade  them,  that  they  had  been  too 
credulous  ;  you  authorifethem  to  believe,  that  few  worthy 
and  intrinfically  good  characters,  are  to  be  found  on  the 
earth  ;  that  all  thofe  held  out  as  fuch,  when  narrowly  exam- 
ined, are  like  the  reft  of  men  :  You  confirm  the  prejudi- 
ces of  the  world  againft  virtue,  and  give  frefh  credit  to 
thofe  difcourfes,  fo  ufual,  and  fo  injurious  to  religion, 
with  regard  to  the  piety  of  the  fervants  of  Jefus  Chrift. 
Now,  do  all  thefe  appear  fo  very  light  to  you  ?  Ah,  my 
brethen  !  Thejufton  this  earth  are  like  the  holy  ark,  in 
the  midft  of  which  the  Lord  dwells,  and  any  contempt 
or  infult  to  which,  he  moft  rigoroufly  avenges  :  They 
may  ftagger  in  their  road,  like  the  ark  of  Ifrael,  while 
conducting  in  triumph  to  Jerufalem ;  for  the  pureft  and 
moft  fhining  virtue,  has  its  fpots  and  eclipfes  ;  and  even 
the  moft  folid,  cannot  always  equally  fupport  itfelf ;  but 
the  Lord  is  incenfed,  when  rafh  and  impure  hands,  like 
thofe  of  Uzzah,  mail  venture  to  put  them  right  ;  and 
fcarcely  have  they  touched  them,  when  they  are  fmote  by 
his  wrath  :  He  takes  to  himfelf  the  flighteft  infults  with 
which  they  difhonour  his  fervants,  and  he  cannot  endure 
that  virtue,  which  has  found  admirers,  even  amongft  ty- 
rants, and  the  moft  barbarous  nations,  fhould  frequently 
among  believers,  find  only  cenfures  and  derifions.  Thus 
the  little  children  of  Ifrael,  were  devoured  on  the  fpot, 
for  having  mocked  the  fmall  number  of  hairs  ol  the  man 
of  God  ;  neverthelefs  thefe  were  only  the  puerile  indifcrc- 

tionsv 


172  SER  M  O  N    VI. 

tions,  fo  pardonable  at  their  age.  Fire  from  lieavcn,  fell 
upon  the  officer  of  the  impious  Ahaziah,  and  in  a  moment 
confumed  him,  for  having  in  derifion  called  Elijah  the 
Man  of  God  ;  neverthelefs  it  was  a  courtier,  from  whom 
little  regard  might  be  expected,  for  the  aulterity  and  fim- 
plicity  of  a  prophet,  or  for  the  virtue  of  a  man,  ruflic  in 
his  appearance,  and  hateful  to  his  mailer.  Michal  was 
{truck  with  barrennefs,  for  having  too  harfhly  cenfured  the 
holy  excefTes  of  joy  and  piety  of  David  before  the  altar  ; 
neverthelefs,  it  proceeded  merely  from  female  delicacy. 
But  to  meddle  with  thofe  who  ferve  the  Lord,  is,  according 
to  the  Scripture,  to  meddle  with  the  apple  of  your  eye  : 
He  invifibly  curfes  thofe  rafh  cenfurers  on  piety  :  and 
though  he  may  not  ftrike  them  as  formerly,  with  inftant 
death,  yet  he  marks  on  their  forehead,  from  this  life  for- 
ward, the  (lamp  of  reprobation,  and  denies  to  themfelves, 
that  precious  gift  of  fanclity  and  grace,  which  they  had 
defpifed  in  others  ;  neverthelefs,  it  is  the  upright  who  are 
now  become  the  general  butt  of  the  malignity  of  public 
difcourfes  ;  and  we  may  fafely  fay,  that  virtue  gives  birth 
to  more  cenfures  in  the  world,  than  vice. 

I  do  not  add,  that  if  thefe  flanders,  which  you  term  light, 
be  highly  criminal  in  their  motives  and  circumftances,  they 
are  ftill  more  fo  in  their  confequences  :  I  fay  their  confe- 
quences, my  brethren,  which  are  always  irreparable.  You 
may  expiate  the  crime  of  voluptuoufnefs,  by  mortification 
and  penitence  ;  the  crime  of  hatred,  by  love  for  your  ene- 
my ;  the  crime  of  ambition,  by  a  renunciation  of  the  hon- 
ours and  grandeurs  of  the  age  ;  the  crime  of  injuftice,  by 
a  reiteration  of  what  you  had  unjuftly  ravifhed  from  your 
brother ;  even  the  crime  of  impiety  and  freethinking,  by 
a  religious  and  public  refpeel:  for  the  worfhip  of  your  fathers ; 
but  what  remedy,  what  virtue,  can  repair  the  crime  of  de- 
traction ? 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  173 

tra£Hon  ?  You  revealed  to  only  one  perfon  the  vices  of 
your  brother:  It  may  be  fo;  but  that  unlucky  confident 
will  foon,  in  his  turn,  have  communicated  it  to  others, 
who,  on  their  part,  no  longer  regarding  as  a  fecret,  what 
they  have  juft  heard,  will  relate  it  to  the  firft  comers;  in 
the  relation  of  it,  every  one  will  add  new  circumftances  ; 
each,  in  his  way,  will  empoifon  it  with  fome  new  trait ; 
in  proportion  as  they  publifh,  they  will  increafe,  they  will 
magnify  it :  Similar  to  a  fpark  of  fire,  fays  St.  James, 
which  wafted  by  an  impetuous  wind,  to  different  places, 
fets  in  flames,  the  forefts  and  countries  it  reaches  :  Such  is 
the  deftiny  of  detraction. 

What  you  had  mentioned  in  fecret,  was  nothing  at  firft, 
and  feemed  ftifled  and  buried  under  its  own  afhes  ;  but  this 
fire,  lies  hid  for  a  while,  only  in  order  to  burft  forth  with 
redoubled  fury  ;  that  nothing  foon  acquires  reality  by  paf- 
fing  through  a  diverfity  of  mouths  ;  every  one  will  add  to 
it,  whatever  his  paffion,  intereft,  difpofition  of  mind,  and 
his  own  malignity,  may  hold  out  to  him  as  probable :  The 
fource  is  hardly  perceptible  ;  but,  aflifted  in  its  courfe, 
by  a  thoufand  foreign  ftreams,  the  united  torrent  will  over- 
whelm the  court,  city,  and  country ;  and  that,  which  at 
its  birth,  was  only  a  private  and  imprudent  pleafantry,  but 
a  fimple  idea,  but  a  malicious  conjecture,  will  become  a 
ferious  affair,  a  public  and  formal  difhonour,  the  fubjecl:  of 
every  converfation,  and  an  eternal  ftain  upon  the  character 
of  your  brother.  Repair,  now,  if  you  can,  the  injufhce 
and  fcandal ;  reftore  to  your  brother  the  good  name,  ot 
which  you  have  deprived  him.  Will  you  pretend  to  op- 
pofe  the  public  inveteracy,  and  finglyhold  forth  his  praife  ? 
But  they  will  regard  you  as  a  new  comer,  who  is  ignorant 
of  what  has  taken  place  in  the  world  ;  and  your  praifes  come 
far  too  late,  will  fcrve  only  to  draw  upon  him  frelh  lathes. 

Now 


174  SERMON     VI. 

Now,  what  a  multitude  of  crimes,  proceeding  from  only1 
one  !  The  fins  of  a  whole  people  become  your's  :  You  de- 
fame through  the  mouths  of  all  your  fellow-citizens:  You 
are  likewife  anfwerable  for  the  guilt  of  all  who  liften  to 
you.  What  penitence  can  expiate  evils,  to  which  it  can 
no  longer  afford  relief  ?  And  will  your  tears  be  able  to  blot 
out,  what  fhall  never  be  effaced  from  the  memory  of  man  ? 
Again,  were  the  fcandal  to  end  with  you,  your  death,  by 
terminating  it,  might  be  its  expiation  before  God.  But 
it  is  a  fcandal  which  will  furvive  you  ;  the  fhameful  hiflo- 
ries  of  courts  never  die  with  their  heroes.  Lafcivious 
writers  have  tranfmitted  to  us,  the  anecdotes,  and  irregu- 
larities of  the  courts  which  have  preceded  us ;  and  licen- 
tious authors  will  be  found  amongft  us,  to  acquaint  the  ages 
to  come,  with  the  public  rumours,  the  fcandalous  circum- 
fiances,  and  the  vices  of  our  own. 

O  my  God !  Thefe  are  of  that  defcription  of  fins,  of 
which  we  know  not  either  the  enormity  or  extent :  but  we 
know,  that  to  become  a  ftumbling  block  to  our  brethren, 
is  to  overturn  for  them  the  work  of  thy  Son's  million,  and 
to  deflroy  the  fruit  of  his  labours,  of  his  death,  and  of  all 
his  miniftry.  Such  is  the  illufion  of  the  pretext,  which 
you  draw  from  the  lightnefs  of  your  flanders  ;  the  motives 
are  never  innocent;  the  circumflances  always  criminal; 
the  confequences,  irreparable.  Let  us  examine,  if  the  pre- 
text of  the  public  notoriety  be  better  founded.  This  is 
what  yet  remains  forme  to  invefligate. 

Part  II.  Whence  comes  it,  that  the  majority  of  pre- 
cepts are  violated  by  thofe  very  perfons  who  profefs  them- 
felves  their  obfervers ;  and  that  we  find  more  difficulty  in 
bringing  the  world  to  acknowledge  than  to  correct  its  tranf- 
greflions  ?  The  reafon  is,  that  our  ideas  of  duty  are  never 

taken 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  175 

taken  from  the  groundwork  of  religion ;  that  we  never  en- 
ter into  the  fpirit,  to  decide  upon  the  letter;  and  that  few 
people  afcend  to  the  principle,  to  clear  up  the  doubts, 
which  corruption  forms  on  the  detail  of  the  confequences. 

Now,  to  apply  this  maxim  to  my  fubjeel: :  What  are  the 
rules  in  thegofpel,  which  conftitute  Handera  crime  to  the 
difciples  of  Jefus  Chrift  ?  In  the  firft  place,  it  is  the  pre- 
cept of  Chriflian  humility,  which,  as  it  ought  to  eflablifh 
in  us,  a  profound  contempt  of  ourfelves,  and  to  open  our 
eyes  on  the  endlefs  multitude  of  our  own  wants,  mould, 
at  the  fame  time,  lhut  our  eyes  on  thofe  of  our  brethren. 
.In  the  fecond  place,  it  is  the  duty  of  charity  ;  that  charity, 
fo  recommended  in  the  gofpel  ;  the  grand  precept  of  the 
law  ;  which  covers  the  faults  it  cannot  correel; ;  excufes 
thofe  it  cannot  cover  ;  delights  not  in  evil ;  and,  with  dif- 
ficulty, believes,  becaufe  it  never  wiflies  it  to  happen. 
Laftly,  It  is  the  inviolable  rule  of  juftice,  which,  never 
permitting  us  to  do  to  others,  what  we  would  not  have 
done  to  ourfelves,  condemns  whatever  goes  beyond  thefe 
equitable  bounds.  Now  the  fcandalous  difcourfes,  which 
turn  upon  thofe  faults  you  term  public,  efTentially  wound 
thefe  three  rules:  Judge,  then,  of  their  innocency. 

iff,  They  wound  the  precept  of  Chriflian  humility.  In- 
deed, my  dear  hearer,  were  you  feelingly  touched  with 
your  own  wants,  fays  a  holy  father ;  were  your  own  fin 
inceflantly  before  your  eyes,  like  the  penitent  David,  you 
would  find  neither  fufheient  leifure  nor  attention,  to  re- 
mark the  faults  of  your  brethren.  The  more  they  were 
public,  the  more  would  you  in  fecret  thank  the  Lord,  for 
averting  from  you  that  fcandal ;  the  more  would  you  feel 
your  gratitude  awakened,  when  you  confidered,  that  though 
fallen  perhaps  into  the  fame  errors,  he  hath  not  permitted 

them 


I76  •     SERMON    VI. 

them  to  be  proclaimed  from  the  houfetops,  like  thofe  of  your 
brother;  that  he  hath  left  in  obfcurity  your  deeds  of  dark- 
nefs ;  that  he  hath  covered  them,  as  I  may  fay,  with  his 
wings ;  and  that,  in  the  eyes  of  men,  he  hath  preferved  for 
you,  an  honour,  and  an  innocence,  which  you  have  io 
often  forfeited  before  him  :  You  would  tremble,  while  fay- 
ing to  yourfelf,  that  perhaps  he  hath  fparedyour  confufion 
in  this  world,  only  to  render  it  more  bitter  and  more  dura- 
ble in  the  next. 

Such  is  the  difpofition  of  Chriftian  humility  towards 
the  public  difgraces  of  our  brethren  :  We  mould  often 
fpeak  of  them  to  ourfelves,  but  almoft  never  to  others. 
Thus,  when  the  Scribes  and  Pharifees,  prefented  to  our 
Saviour,  the  woman  caught  in  adultery,  and  eagerly 
pre  fled  him  to  give  his  judgment ;  though  the  guilt  of  the 
finner  was  public,  Jefus  Chritt  kept  a  profound  filence ; 
and  to  their  infidious  and  prefling  entreaties,  to  explain 
himfelf,  he  (imply  anfwered  :  "  He  that  is  without  fin 
"  amongft  vou,  let  him  firft  call:  a  ftone  at  her;"  as  if  he 
thereby  meant  to  make  them  underfland,  that  Tinners,  like 
them,  were  little  entitled  to  condemn,  with  fo  high  a  hand, 
the  crime  of  that  woman  ;  and  that  to  acquire  the  right  of 
calling  a  fingle  flone  at  her,  it  was  necelTary  the  individual 
fhould  himfelf  be  free  from  reproach.  And  behold,  my 
brethren,  what  I  wifh  to  fay  to  you  at  prefent :  The  evil 
conduct  of  fuch  a  perfon  is  become  notorious  :  Very  well ! 
Whoever  of  you  is  without  fin,  let  him  caft  the  firft  ftone: 
If,  before  God,  you  have  nothing,  perhaps  more  criminal, 
with  which  to  reproach  yourfelf,  fpeak  with  freedom  ;  con- 
demn, in  the  fevereft  manner,  his  fault,  and  open  upon 
him  the  whole  flood  of  your  derifions  and  cenfures ;  it  is 
permitted  to  you.  Ah!  you,  who  fo  hardily  fpeak  of  it, 
you  are  more  fortunate;  but  are  you  more  innocent  than 

he? 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  177 

he  ?  You  are  thought  to  poflefs  more  virtue,  and  more  re- 
gard for  your  duty  ;  but  God,  who  knoweth  you,  will  he 
judge  like  men  ?  Were  the  darknefs,  which  conceals  your 
£hame,  to  be  diilipated  ;  would  not  every  ftone  you  throw, 
recoil  upon  yourfelves  ?  Were  an  uaexpecled  circumflance 
to  betray  your  fecret,  would  not  the  audacity  and  malicious 
joy  with  which  you  cenfure,  add  additional  ridicule  to  your 
confufion  and  difgrace  ?  Ah  !  It  is  only  to  artifices  and  ar- 
rangements, which  the  jullice  of  God  may  difconcert  and 
lay  open  in  an  inftant,  that  you  are  indebted  for  this  iantom 
of  reputation,  on  which  you  pride  yourfelves"  fo  much: 
You  perhaps  border  on  the  moment,  which  lhall  reveal 
yourfhame;  and  iar  from  blufhing  in  fecret  and  in  filence, 
when  faults,  like  ycur  own,  are  made  known,  you  fpeak 
of,  and  relate  them  with  pleafure  ;  and  you  furnifh  the 
public  with  traits,  which,  one  day,  it  will  employ  againffc 
yourfelf :  It  is  the  threat  and  prediction  of  our  Saviour, 
All  they  that  take  the  fword,  fhall  perifh  with  the  fword  : 
You  pierce  your  brother  with  the  fword  of  the  tongue; 
with  the  fame  weapon,  fhall  you  be  pierced  in  your  turn  ; 
and  though  you  were  even  exempted  from  the  vices  you 
fo  boldly  cenfure  in  others,  the  juft  God  will  deliver  you 
up  to  it. 

Difgrace  is  the  common  punifhment  of  pride.  Peter, 
on  the  evening  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  never  ceafed  to  ex- 
aggerate the  guilt  of  the  difciple,  by  whom  his  mailer  was 
to  be  betrayed  :  He  was  the  moft  anxious  of  them  all  to 
know  his  name,  and  the  molt  forward  toexprefs  his  detec- 
tion of  his  perfidy;  and  immediately  after,  he  falls  him, 
felf  into  the  infidelity  which  he  had  fo  lately  blamed  with 
fuch  pride  and  confidence.  Nothing  draws  down  upon 
us  the  wrath  and  curfe  of  God,  fo  much  as  the  malicious 
pleafure  with  which  we  magnify  the  faults  of  our  brethren  ; 

Vol.  I.  Y  and 


i;8  SERMON    vr. 

and  his  mercy  is  incenfed,  that  thefe  afflicting  examples, 
which  he  permits,  for  the  fole  purpofe  of  recalling  us  to 
our  own  weaknefTes,  and  awakening  our  vigilance,  mould 
flatter  our  pride,  and  excite  only  our  derifions  and  cen« 
fures. 

You  depart,  then,  from  the  rules  of  Chriftian  humility, 
when  you  permit  yourfelves  to  cenfure  the  faults,  however 
public,  of  your  brother  ;  but  you  likewife  eflentially  wound 
thofe  of  charity  :  For  charity  never  faileth,  fays  the  Apof- 
tle.  Now,*if  the  vices  of  your  brother  be  known  to  thofe 
who  liften  to  you,  to  what  purpofe,  then,  do  you  repeat  them 
afrefli  ?  What  indeed  can  be  your  intention  ?  To  blame  his 
conducl  ?  But,  is  his  fhame  not  already  fufficient  ?  Would 
you  wifh  to  overwhelm  an  unfortunate  wretch,  and  give 
the  laft  ftab  to  a  man,  already  pierced  with  a  thoufand  mor- 
tal blows  ?  His  guilt  has  already  been  exaggerated  by  fo 
many  dark  and  malicious  hearts,  who  have  fpread  in  colours 
fufficient  to  blacken  it  for  ever  :  Is  he  not  fufficiently  pun- 
ifhed  ?  He  is  now  worthy  of  your  pity,  rather  than  of 
your  cenfures.  What  then  could  be  your  intention  ?  To 
condole  with  him  for  his  misfortune  ?  But  to  open  afrefli 
his  wounds,  is  a  ft  range  way  of  condoling  with  an  unfortu- 
nate brother.  Is  true  companion  thus  cruel  ?  What  is  it 
then  ?  To  juflify  your  prophecies,  and  former  fufpicions,  on 
his  condu£l  ?  To  tell  us,  that  you  had  always  believed,  that 
fooner  or  later  it  would  come  to  that  ?  But  you  come  then, 
to  triumph  over  his  misfortune  ?  To  applaud  yourfelf  for 
his  difgrace  ?  To  claim  an  honour  to  yourfelf  for  the  malig- 
nity of  your  judgment  ?  Alas  !  What  glory  can  it  be  to  a 
Chriftian,  to  have  fufpecled  his  brother  ;  tohave  believed  him 
guilty,  before  he  was  known  as  fuch  ;  to  have  rafhly  forefeen 
his  difgraces  yet  to  come  ;  we,  who,  ought  not  to  fee  them, 
even  when  they  have  taken  place  ?  Ah  !  You  can  prophecy 

fo 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  1 79 

To  juftly,  on  the  deftiny  of  others :  Be  a  prophet  in  your 
own  country,  and  anticipate  the  misfortunes  which  threaten 
you :  Why  do  you  not  prophecy  thus  for  your-felf,  that 
unlefs  you  fly  from  fuch  an  opportunity,  and  fuch  a  dan- 
ger, you  will  perifh  in  it  ?  That  unlefs  you  diffolve  fuch  a 
connexion,  the  public,  which  already  murmurs,  will  at 
laft  break  out,  and  then  you  mail  find  it  too  late  to  repair 
the  fcandal  ?  That  unlefs  you  quit  thefe  exceffes,  into 
which  the  paffions  of  youth,  and  a  bad  education,  have 
thrown  you,  your  affairs  and  fortune  will  be  ruined  beyond 
refource  ?  It  is  on  thefe  points  that  you  ought  to  exercife 
your  art  of  conjecture.  What  madnefs,  while  furrounded 
one's-felf  with  precipices,  to  be  occupied,  in  contemplat- 
ing from  afar  thofe  that  threaten  our  brethren  ! 

Befides,  the  more  your  brother's  difgraces  are  public, 
the  more  affected  ought  you  to  be  with  the  fcandal,  which 
they  neceffarily  occafion  to  the  Church  ;  with  the  advan- 
tage which  the  wicked  and  the  free-thinkers  will  draw  from 
them,  to  blafpheme  the  name  of  the  Lord,  to  harden  them- 
felves  in  impiety,  and  to  perfuade  themfelves,  that  thefe 
are  weakneffes  common  to  all  men,  and  that  they  are  mofl 
virtuous,  who  beft  know  how  to  conceal  them :  The  more 
ought  you  to  be  afflicted,  at  the  occafion  which  thefe  pub- 
lic examples  of  irregularity  give  to  weak  fouls,  to  fall  into 
the  fame  diforders  :  the  more  does  charity  oblige  you  to 
grieve  over  them  ;  the  more  ought  you  to  wifh,  that  the  re- 
membrance of  thefe  faults  mould  perifh  :  that  the  day,  and 
the  places  of  their  reveal ment,  mould  be  effaced  from  the 
memory  of  men  :  and  laflly,  the  more  ought  you,  by  your 
filence,  to  endeavour  to  fupprefs  them.  But  the  whole 
world  fpeaks  of  them,  you  fay  ;  your  filence  will  not  pre- 
vent the  public  convcrfations ;  confequently,  you  may 
make  remarks  in  your  turn.     The  inference  is  barbarous : 

Becaule 


l8<3  SERMON     V!. 

Becaufe  you  are  unable  to  repair  the  difgrace,  are  you  per- 
mitted to  augment  it  ?  Becaufe  you  cannot  fave  your  bro- 
ther from  fhame,  fhall  you  aflift  to  overwhelm  him  with 
confufion  and  infamy  ?  Becaufe,  almoft  every  one  caffs  a 
flone  at  him,  fhall  it  be  lefs  cruel  in  you,  to  throw  one  in 
your  turn,  and  to  unite  with  thofe  who  bruife,  and  beat  him 
in  pieces  ?  Setting  religion  afide,  how  beautiful  it  is,  to 
declare  for  the  unfortunate  ?  How  much  real  dignity  and 
greatnefs  of  foul,  in  flickering  under  our  protection,  thofe 
abandoned  by  the  world  !  And  even  admitting  the  rules  of 
charity  were  not  to  make  it  a  duty  to  us,  the  feelings  alone, 
of  glory  and  humanity,  mould  in  this  cafe  be  fufficient.. 

3^//)',  You  not  only  violate  the  holy  rules  of  charity  ;  but 
you  are  alfo  a  breaker  of  thofe  of  juftice.  For,  the  faults 
of  your  brother  are  public  ;  let  it  be  fo ;  but  place  your- 
fclf  in  the  fame  fituation,  would  you  exacl:  from  him  lefs 
deference  or  lefs  humanity,  were  your  difgrace  to  be  no 
longer  a  myflery  ?  Would  you  agree,  that  the  public  ex- 
ample gave  to  your  brother  a  right  againft  you,  which  you 
arrogate  to  yourfelf  againft  him  ?  Would  you  accept,  on 
his  part,  in  juftification  of  his  malignity,  an  excufe,  which 
would  render  him  ftill  more  odious,  mean,  and  cruel  ? 
Befides,  how  do  you  know  whether  the  author  of  all  thefe 
reports  be  not  an  impoflor  ?  So  many  falfe  reports  are  cir- 
culated in  the  world  ;  and  the  malice  of  men  renders  them 
fo  credulous  on  the  faults  of  others!  How  do  you  know, 
but  thefe  calumnies  have  been  circulated  by  an  enemy,  a 
rival,  or  fome  envious  perfon,  in  order  to  ruin  him,  who 
lias  thwarted  his  pafftons  or  his  fortune  ?  Arc  fuch  inftan- 
ccs  rare  ?  Whether  it  be  not  fomc  heedlefs  perfon  who  has 
given  occafion  to  all  thofe  difcourfes,  by  an  indifcreet  ex- 
predion,  uttered  without  thought,  and  laid  hold  of  through 
malice  ?  Are  fuch  miftakes  impoflible  ?  Whether  it  be  not 

a  mere 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  ■  j8l 

a  mere  conjecture,  originally  circulated  as  fiach,  arid 
afterwards  given  as  a  truth  ?•  Are  fuch  alterations  un^ 
common,  in  public  rumours  ?  What  could  .have  a  greater 
appearance  of  feahbility,  to  the  children  of  the  captivity, 
than  the  alledged  mifconducl:  of  Sufanna.  The  judges 
of  the  people  of  God,  venerable  through  their  age  and 
dignity,  depofed  againft  her;  the  people  exclaimed  againft 
her  as  an  adulterefs  ;  they  looked  upon  her  as  the  dif- 
graee  of  Ifrael ;  neverthelefs,  it  was  her  modefly  alone 
which  drew  upon  her  thefe  infults ;  and  had  not  a  Daniel 
been  found  in  her  time,  who  had  the  courage  to  doubt  a 
general  report,  the  blood  of  that  innocent  woman  muft 
have  ftained  the  whole  people.  And,  without  departing 
from  our  gofpel ;  were  not  the  facrilegious  reports,  which 
held  out  Jefus  as  an  impoftor  and  Samaritan,  become  the 
public  difcourfes  of  all  Judea  ?  The  Priefts  and  Pharifees, 
people,  to  whom  the  dignity  of  their  ftation,  and  the  regu- 
larity of  their  manners,  attracted  the  refpett  and  confi- 
dence of  the  people,  ftrengthened  them  by  their  authority  : 
Neverthelefs,  would  you  excufe  fuch  amongft  the  Jews, 
as  on  reports  fo  common,  fpoke  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world,  as  a  feducer  who  impofed  on  the  credulity  of  the 
people  ?  You  expofe  yourfelf,  then,  to  the  guilt  of  hav- 
ing calumniated  your  brother;  however  circulated  the  ru- 
mours againft  him  may  be,  his  crime,  of  which  you  have 
not  been  a  witnefs,  is  always  dubious  to  you  :  and  you  do 
him  an  injuftice,  when  you  propagate  as  true,  what  you 
have  only  heard  from  public  reports,  often  falfe,  and  al- 
ways rafli. 

But  I  go  further  :  when  your  brother's  difgrace,  mould 
even  be  certain,  and  the  malignity  of  reports  mould  have 
added  nothing  to  its  criminality  ;  how  can  you  know,  that 
the  very  fhameof  feeing  it  fo  public  may  not  have  recalled 

him 


i8a  SERMON    VI. 

him  tohimfelf ;  and  that  a  fincere  repentance,  and  tears  of 
compun&ion,  may  not  have  already  effaced,  and  expiated 
it  before  God  ?  Years  are  not  always  required  for  grace  to 
triumph  over  a  rebellious  heart :  there  are  victories  which 
it  leaves  not  to  time  ;  and  a  public  difgrace  often  turns  out 
the  moment  of  mercy,  which  decides  upon  the  converfion 
of  the  finner.  Now,  if  your  brother  is  in  'a  ftate  of  re- 
pentance, are  you  not  unjuft  and  cruel  to  revive  faults 
which  his  penitence  has  effaced,  and  which  the  Lord  hath 
ceafed  to  remember  ?  Do  you  recolleft.  the  fmful  woman 
in  the  gofpel  ?  Her  irregularities  were  notorious,  feeing 
fhe  had  been  known  through  the  whole  city  as  a  proftitute  : 
neverthelefs,  when  the  Pharifee  reproached  her  with  her 
fins,  her  tears  and  love  had  effaced  them,  at  the  feet  of  our 
Saviour ;  the  goodnefs  of  God  had  remitted  her  errors, 
yet  the  malignity  of  men,  was  unable  to  obliterate  them. 

Laftly,  Your  brother's  difgrace  was  public ;  that  is  to 
fay,  it  was  confufedly  known,  that  his  conducl  was  not 
free  from  reproach,  and  you  come  to  particularife  the 
circumflances,  to  proclaim  his  deeds,  to  explain  the  mo- 
tives, and  to  lay  open  the  whole  myftery ;  to  confirm  what 
they  but  imperfectly  knew  ;  to  tell  them  of  what  they  knew 
not  at  all ;  and  to  applaud  yourfelf,  for  appearing  better  in- 
ftru&ed  in  your  brother's  misfortune,  than  thofe  who  liften 
to  you  :  Some  degree  of  character,  though  wavering,  yet 
remained  to  him  ;  he  flill  preferved,  at  leaft,  fome  remains 
of  honour,  a  fpark  of  life,  and  you  completely  extinguifh 
it.  I  do  not  add  that  thefe  public  reports  perhaps  originat- 
ed from  people  of  no  character  ;  perfons  of  neither  re- 
putation nor  confequence  to  convince  ;  hitherto  none  durft 
yield  credit  to  rumours  fo  poorly  fupported  ;  but,  you, 
who  by  your  rank,  birth,  and  dignities,  have  acquired  an 
influence  over  the  minds,  remove  every  lhadow  of  doubt 

or 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  l8$ 

or  uncertainty  :  Your  name  alone,  will  now  ferve  as  a  proof 
againft  the  innocency  of  your  brother;  and  in  future  it 
will  be  cited  in  juflification  of  the  general  reports,  Now, 
can  any  thing  be  harder,  or  more  unjuft,  both  on  account 
of  the  injury  you  do  to  him  and  of  the  fervice  you  fail  to 
perform  ?  Your  filence  on  his  fault  might  alone  perhaps 
have  ftopt  the  public  defamation  ;  and  you  would  have  been 
cited  to  clear  his  innocence,  as  you  now  are  to  blacken  it : 
And  what  more  refpeclable  ufe  could  you  have  made  of 
your  rank  and  influence  ?  The  more  you  are  exalted  in 
the  world,  the  more  ought  you  to  be  religious,  and  cir- 
cumfpecT:  on  the  reputation  of  your  brethren  ;  the  more 
ought  a  noble  decency  to  render  you  referved  on  their  er- 
rors :  The  difcourfes  of  the  vulgar  are  foon  forgot ;  they 
expire  in  coming  into  the  world;  but  the  words  of  the 
great  never  fall  in  vain ;  and  the  public  is  always  a  faithful 
echo,  either  to  the  praifes  they  beflow,  or  to  the  cenfures 
they  allow  themfelves  to  utter.  My  God!  thou  teacheft 
us,  by  concealing  thyfelf  the  fins  of  men,  to  conceal  them 
on  our  part ;  to  reveal  our  faults,  thou  waiteft  with  a  mer- 
ciful patience,  the  day  when  the  fecrets  of  our  hearts  fhall 
be  manifeiled  :  And  we  by  a  rafh  malignity,  anticipate  the 
time  of  thy  vengeance  ;  we  who  are  fo  interefted,  that  the 
fecrecies  of  our  hearts,  and  the  myftery  of  the  confciences, 
mould  not  as  yet  be  laid  open  to  thee. 

Thus,  you  particularly,  my  brethren,  whom  rank  and 
birth  exalt  above  others,  be  not  fatisfied  with  putting  a 
check  upon  your  tongue ;  according  to  the  advice  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  prefent  a  melancholy  and  fevere  countenance, 
a  filence  of  difapprobation  and  indignation,  to  every  defa- 
matory difcourfe;  for  the  crime  is  exaclly  equal,  between 
the  malignity  of  the  fpeaker,  and  the  fatisfaftion  of  thofe 
who  liflen  to  them.     Let  us  furround  our  ears  with  thorns, 

that 


184  •    SERMON     VI. 

that  they  may  not  be  acceflible  to  poifonous  infinuations ; 
that  is  to  fay,  let  us  not  only  fhut  them  againfl  thefe  words 
of  blood  and  gall,  but  let  us  return  them  on  their  author  in 
a  manner  equally  bitter  and  mortifying.  Were  flander  to 
find  fewer  approvers,  the  kingdom  of  Jefus  Chnfl  would 
foon  be  purged  of  that  fcandal  :  Slander  is  pleafing ;  and 
a  vice  which  pleafes  foon  becomes  a  defirable  talent :  We 
animate  flander  by  our  applaufes  ;  and  as  there  is  no  perfon 
but  wifhes  to  be  applauded,  there  are  few  likewiie  who  do 
not  iludy  it,  and  endeavour  to  make  a  merit  of  flander- 
ing  with  fkill. 

But  what  is  furprifing  is,  that  piety  itfelf  frequently 
ferves  as  a  pretext  to  that  vice,  which  faps  the  very  founda- 
tions of  piety,  and  which  fincere  piety  detefls.  This  ought 
to  be  the  lall  part  of  this  difcourfe  ;  but  I  fhall  fay  only  a 
Tingle  word  upon  it.  Yes,  my  brethren,  flander  frequently 
finds  in  piety  itfelf,  wherewithal  to  colour  itfelf;  It  decks 
itfelf  out  in  the  appearance  of  zeal :  Hatred  to  vice  feems 
to  authorife  the  cenfure  of  finners  :  Thofe  who  make  a 
profeflion  of  virtue,  often  believe  that  they  are  honouring 
God,  and  rendering  glory  to  him,  when  they  difhonour, 
and  exclaim  againfl  thofe  who  offend  him  ;  as  though  the 
privilege  of  piety,  whofe  foul  is  charity,  were  to  difpenfe 
us  even  from  charity.  It  is  not  that  I  wiih  here  to  juflify 
the  difcourfes  of  the  world,  and  to  furnifh  it  with  new 
traits  againfl  the  zeal  of  the  upright;  but,  at  the  fame 
time,  I  ought  not  to  diflemble,  that  the  liberty  which  they 
affurne,  of  cenfuring  the  conduct  of  their  brethren,  is  one 
of  the  molt  common  abufes  of  piety. 

.Now,  my  dear  hearer,  you  whom  this  difcourfe  regards, 
liften  to,  and  never  forget  the  rules  which  the  gofpel  pre- 
fcribes  to  true  zeal. 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING.  185 

ijily,  Remember,  that  the  zeal  which  makes  us  lament 
over  the  fcandals  that  dilhonour  the  church,  is  contented 
with  lamenting  them  before  God ;  with  praying  him  not  to 
forget  his  former  mercies  ;  to  caft  his  propitious  regards 
upon  the  people ;  to  eftablilh  his  reign  in  all  hearts  ;  and 
to  recal  finners  from  their  erroneous  ways.  Behold,  the 
holy  manner  of  lamenting  over  the  difgraces  of  your  bre- 
thren ;  mention  them  frequently  to  the  Lord,  but  forget 
them  in  the  prefence  of  men. 

zdly,  Remember,  that  piety  gives  you  no  right  of  em- 
pire or  authority  over  your  brethren  :  That  if  you  be  not 
eftablilhed  over  them,  and  refponfible  for  their  conduct, 
whether  they  fall,  or  remain  ftedfaft,  is  the  concern  of  the 
Lord,  and  not  your's  ;  confequently,  that  your  continual 
and  public  lamentations,  over  their  irregularities,  proceed 
from  a  principle  of  pride,  malignity,  levity,  and  intoleran- 
cy  ;  that  the  church  has  its  paftors  to  fuperintend  the  flock; 
that  the  ark  has  its  minifters  to  fuftain  it,  without  needing 
the  interference  of  any  foreign  or  imprudent  fuccours  ; 
and  laftly,  that  by  thefe  means,  far  from  correcting  your 
brethren,  you  dilhonour  piety  ;  you  juftify  the  difcourfes 
of  the  wicked  againft  the  juft  ;  and  you  authorife  them  in 
faying,  as  formerly  in  the  Book  of  Wifdom,  Why  profef- 
feth  the  righteous,  to  have  a  right  to  fill  the  ftreets,  and 
the  public  places,  with  their  clamours  and  upbraidings 
againft  our  conduft  ;  and  holdeth  it  out  as  a  point  of  vir- 
tue, to  defame  us  in  the  minds  of  our  brethren  ? 

%dly,  Remember,  that  the  zeal  regulated  by  wifdom, 
feeks  the  falvation,  and  not  the  defamation  of  the  brother 
it  wifhes  to  edify  ;  that  it  loves  not  to  injure  ;  that  in  order 
to  render  itfelf  ufeful,  it  fludies  to  render  itfelf  amiable  ; 
that  it  is  more  affected  with  the  misfortune  and  iofs  of  its 

Vol.  I.  Z  brother 


i86  SERMON     VU 

brother,  than  irritated  againft,  or  fcandalifed  by  his  errors  ; 
that,  far  from  going  to  publifh  them  to  others,  it  would 
wifh  to  be  enabled  to  conceal  them  from  itfelf ;  and  that 
the  zeal  which  cenfures  them,  far  from  leffening  the  evil, 
fcrves  only  to  augment  the  fcandaL 

tfkly,  Remember,  that  the  cenforious  zeal  which  you 
difplay,  is  ufelefs  to  your  brother,  feeing  he  witnefTes  it 
not ;  that  far  from  being  of  fervice,  it  is  even  hurtful  to  his 
converfion,  to  which  you  raife  up  obftacles,  by  irritating 
him  againft  your  cenfures,  mould  he  happen  to  be  inform- 
ed of  them  ;  that  it  is  injurious  to  his  reputation,  which 
you  wound  ;  and  Jaftly,  to  thofe  that  liften  to  you,  whoref- 
pe&ing  your  pretended  virtue,  never  entertain  a  doubt  that 
they  can  err,  while  following  your  fleps  ;  and  no  longer 
place  (lander  among  the  number  of  vices.  Zeal  is  humble 
and  has  eyes  for  nothing  but  its  own  wants ;  it  is  fimple, 
and  much  more  difpofed  to  be  credulous  with  regard  to  good 
than  evil ;  it  is  merciful,  and  is  always  indulgent  to  the 
faults  of  others,  in  the  fame  proportion  as  it  is  fevere  to  its 
own  weaknefTes  ;  it  is  gentle  and  timorous,  and  prefers  to 
have  failed  in  fufficiently  blaming  vice,  to  rafhly  expofing 
itfelf  to  go  too  far  in  cenfuring  the  finner. 

Thus,  my  brethren,  you  who  returned  from  the  errors 
of  the  world,  now  ferve  the  Lord,  allow  me  to  conclude, 
with  addrefling  to  you  the  fame  words,  formerly  fpoken  by 
a  holy  father,  to  the  fervants  of  Jefus  Chrift,  who  through 
an  indifcreet  zeal,  made  no  fcruple  of  tearing  in  pieces  the 
characters  of  their  brethren. 

"  A  tongue  which  has  confefTed  Jefus  Chrift  ;  which  has 
"  renounced  the  errors  and  fplendours  of  the  world  ;  which 
**  every  day  bleffes  the  God  of  peace,  at  the  foot  of  the  altar  ; 

"  and 


ON  EVIL-SPEAKING*  187 

"and  is  often  confecrated,  by  participation  of  theholy  myf- 
*<  teries,  mould  no  longer  be  intolerant,  dangerous,  and  full 
«*  of  gall  and  bitternefs  againft  its  brethren.  It  is  difgracing 
"  religion,  after  having  offered  up  pure  prayers  and  thankf- 
**  giyings  t0  tne  Lord,  in  the  afTembly  of  believers,  to  go 
"  and  fpit  out  the  venemous  traits  of  the  ferpent,  againft 
'*  thofe  whom  the  unity  of  faith,  charity,  the  facrament, 
"  and  even  their  very  errors,  fhould  render  more  endeared 
M  and  more  refpe&able  to  you." 

By  the  wifdom  and  moderation  of  our  difcourfes,  let  us 
deprive  the  enemies  of  virtue,  of  every  occafion  to  blaf- 
pheme  againft  it;  let  us  correct  our  brethren,  by  the  fanc- 
tity  of  our  example,  rather  than  by  the  keenefs  of  our  cen- 
fures  ;  let  us  recal  them,  by  living  better  than  they,  and 
not  by  fpeaking  againft  them  ;  let  us  render  virtue  refpecla- 
ble  by  its  fweetnefs,  rather  than  by  its  feverity  ;  let  us 
draw  finners  towards  us  by  compaflionating,  rather  than 
cenfuring  their  faults ;  in  order  that  our  virtue  may  be 
confpicuous  to  them,  only  through  our  charity  and  indul- 
gence, and  that  our  tender  care  to  cover  and  excufe  their 
faults,  may  induce  them  to  accufe  and  condemn  themfelves 
with  more  feverity,  when  they  perceive  the  difference  of 
our  conduct  :  By  thefe  means,  we  (hall  regain  our  brethren  ; 
we  mail  honour  piety  ;  we  mail  overthrow  impiety  and 
freethinking ;  we  ihall  deprive  the  world  of  all  occafion 
for  thofe  difcourfes,  fo  common,  and  fo  injurious  to  real 
virtue  :  And,  after  having  ufed  mercy  towards  our  bre- 
thren, we  fhall  with  more  confidence  go  to  prefent  ourfelves 
before  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  confola- 
tion,  to  afk  mercy  for  ourfelves. 

SERMON- 


SERMON  VII. 

ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME. 


John  viL  33. 

Yet  a  little  while  am  I  with  you,  and  then  I  go  unto  Him 
that  fent  me± 

jl\n  improper  ufe  of  time,  is  the  fource  of  all  the  difor- 
ders  which  reign  amongft  men.  Some  pafs  their  whole 
life  in  idlenefs  and  floth,  equally  ufelefs  to  the  world,  their 
country  and  themfelves  :  Others,  in  the  tumult  of  bufi- 
nefs  and  worldly  affairs.  Some  appear  to  exift,  only  for 
the  purpofe  of  indulging  an  unworthy  indolence,  and  ef- 
caping,  by  a  diverfity  of  pleafures,  from  the  wearinefs 
which  every  where  purfues  them,  in  proportion  as  they  fly 
from  it :  Others  in  a  continual  fearch,  amidft  the  cares  of 
the  world,  for  occupations  which  may  deliver  them  from 
themfelves.  It  appears,  that  time  is  a  common  enemy, 
againft  which  all  men  have  agreed  to  confpire  :  Their  whole 
life  is  one  continued  and  deplorable  anxiety,  to  rid  them- 
felves of  it.  The  happieft  are  thofe,  who  beft  fucceed, 
in  not  feeling  the  weight  of  its  duration  ;  and  the  princi- 
pal fatisfaclion  they  reap,  either  from  frivolous  pleafures, 
or  ferious  occupations,  is  the  abridgment  of  days  and 
moments,  and  deliverance  from  them,  almoft  without  a 
preception  of  their  being  paffed. 

Time, 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  189 

Time,  that  precious  depofit  confided  to  us  by  the  Lord, 
is  therefore  become  a  burden  which  fatigues  and  oppreffes 
us  :  We  dread,  as  the  greataft  of  evils,  its  deprivation  tor 
ever;  and  we  almoft  equally  dread  the  ^obligation,  to  fup- 
port  its  wearinefs  and  duration.  It  is  a  treafure  which  we 
would  wifh  to  retain  for  ever ;  yet  which  we  cannot  fuffer 
to  remain  in  our  poffeflion. 

This  time,  however,  of  which  we  make  fo  little  eftima- 
tion,  is  the  only  mean  of  our  eternal  falvation.  We  lofe 
it  without  regret,  which  is  a  crime  ;  we  employ  it  only  for 
worldly  purpofes,  which  is  a  madnefs.  Let  us  employ 
the  time  which  God  allows  us,  becaufe  it  is  fhort  :  Let 
us  employ  it  only  in  labouring  for  our  falvation,  be- 
caufe it  is  only  given  us,  that  we  may  be  faved  :  That  is  to 
fay,  let  us  be  fenfible  of  the  value  of  time,  and  let  us  lofe 
it  not ;  let  us  know  the  ufe  of  it,  and  employ  it  only  for 
the  purpofe  it  was  given  :  By  thefe  means,  we  fhall  avoid 
both  the  dangers  of  a  flothful,  and  the  inconveniences 
of  an  hurried  life.  This  is  the  fubjecl;  of  the  prefent  Dif- 
courfe. 

Part  I.  Three  circumftances,  in  general,  decide  upon 
the  value  of  things  among  men  :  The  great  advantages 
which  may  accrue  to  us  from  them  :  The  fhort  fpace  we 
have  to  enjoy  them  :  And,  laftly,  every  hope  deftroyed  of 
ever  regaining  them,  if  once  loft.  Now,  behold,  my 
brethren,  the  principal  motives  which  ought  to  render  time 
precious  and  eftimable,  to  every  wife  man:  In  the  firft 
place,  it  is  the  price  of  eternity  :  In  the  fecond  place,  it 
is  fhort ;  and  we  cannot  make  too  much  hafte  to  reap  the 
benefit  of  it  :  And  laflly,  it  is  irreparable  ;  for,  once  loft, 
it  can  never  be  regained.  It  is  the  price  of  eternity  :  Yes, 
ray  brethren,  man,  condemned  to  death  by  the  fin  of  his 

birth 


igO  SERMON     VII. 

birth,  ought  to  receive  life,  only  to  lofe  it,  even  from  the 
moment  he  has  received  it.  The  blood  alone  of  Jefus 
Chrift  has  effaced  this  fenteqce  of  death  and  punifhment, 
pronounced  againft  all  mankind,  in  the  perfon  of  the  firft 
finner :  We  live,  though  the  offspring  of  a  father  con- 
demned to  death,  and  inheritors  ourfelves  of  his  punifh- 
ment, becaufe  the  Redeemer  died  for  us :  The  death  of 
Jefus  Chrift  is,  therefore,  the  fource,  and  the  only  claim 
of  right  we  have  to  life;  our  days,  our  moments,  are  the 
firft  bleflings,  which  have  flowed  to  us  from  his  crofs  ;  and 
the  time  which  we  fo  vainly  lofe,  is  the  price  however, 
of  his  blood,  the  fruit  of  his  death,  and  the  merit  of  his 
facrifice. 

Not  only  as  children  of  Adam,  we  deferve  no  longer 
to  live ;  but  even  all  the  crimes  we  have  added  to  thofe  of 
our  birth,  are  become  new  fentences  of  death  againft  us. 
So  many  times  -as  we  have  violated  the  law  of  the  Author 
of  Life,  fo  many  times,  from  that  moment,  ought  we  'to 
have  loft  it. 

Every  finner  is,  therefore,  a  child  of  death  and  anger ; 
and  every  time  the  mercy  of  God  has  fufpended,  after  each 
of  our  crimes,  the  fentence  of  condemnation  and  death,  it 
is  a  new  life,  as  it  were,  his  goodnefs  has  granted,  in  or- 
der to  allow  us  time  to  repair  the  criminal  ufe  we  had 
hitherto  made  of  our  own. 

I  even  fpeak  of  the  difeafes,  accidents,  and  numberlefs 
dangers,  which  fo  often  have  menaced  our  life  ;  which  fo 
often  we  have  feen  to  terminate  that  of  our  friends  and  near- 
eft  connexions;  and  from  which,  his  goodnefs  has  always 
delivered  us.  The  life  which  we  enjoy,  is  like  a  perpetual 
miracle,  therefore,  of  his  divine  mercy :  The  time  which 

is 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  191 

is  left  to  us,  is  the  confequence  of  an  infinity  of  tender 
mercies  and  grace,  which  compofes  the  thread  and  the  train, 
as  it  were,  of  your  life  :  Every  moment  we  breathe,  is 
like  a  new  gift  we  receive  from  God ;  and  to  wafte  that 
time,  and  thefe  moments,  in  a  deplorable  inutility,  is  to 
infult  that  Infinite  Goodnefs,  which  has  granted  them  to 
us  ;  todifiipatean  inefbmable  grace,  which  is  not  our  due; 
and  to  deliver  up  ,to  chance  the  price  of  our  eternity. 
Behold,  my  brethren,  the  firft  guilt  attached  to  the  lofs  of 
time :  It  is  a  precious  treafure  left  to  us,  though  we  no 
longer  have  any  right  to  it ;  which  is  given  to  us,  for  the 
purpofe  alone  of  purchafing  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  and 
which  we  diflipate,  as  a  thing  the  moft  vile  and  contempti- 
ble, and  of  which  we  know  not  any  ufe  to  make. 

In  the  world,  we  would  regard  that  man  as  a  fool,  who, 
heir  to  a  great  fortune,  mould  allow  it  to  be  wafted,  through 
want  of  care  and  attention  ;  and  mould  make  no  ufe  of  it, 
either  to  raife  himfelf  to  places  and  dignities,  which  might 
draw  him  from  obfeurity,  or  in  order  to  confirm  to  him- 
felf,  a  folid  eftablifhment,  which  might  place  him  in  future 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  reverfe. 

But,  my  brethren,  time  is  that  precious  treafure,  which 
we  have  inherited  from  our  birth,  and  which  the  Almighty 
leaves  to  us  through  pure  companion  :  It  is  in  our  pofTeflion, 
and  it  depends  upon  ourfelves  to  make  a  proper  ufe  of  it. 
It  is  not  in  order  to  exalt  ourfelves  to  frivolous  dignities 
here  below,  or  to  worldly  grandeurs  :  Alas  !  whatever  paf- 
fes  away,  is  too  vile  to  be  the  price  of  time,  which  is  itfeif. 
the  price  of  eternity  :  It  is  in  order  to  be  placed  in  the 
heavens  above,  at  the  fide  of-  Jefus  Chrift  :  It  is  in  order 
to  feparate  us  from  the  crowd  of  the  children  of  Adam, 
above  all  Caefars  and  Kings  of  the  earth,  in  that  immortal 

fociety 


ig2  SERMON     VII. 

fociety  of  the  happy,    who  fhall  all  be  kings,    and  whofe 
reign  fhall  have  no  bounds,  but  thofe  of  eternity. 

What  madnefs,  then,  to  make  no  ufe  of  atreafure  fo  in- 
eftimable  :  In  frivolous  amufements,  to  wafle  that  time, 
which  may  be  the  price  of  eternal  falvation  ;  and  to  allow 
the  hopes  of  our  immortality,  to  be  diflipated  in  fmoke  ! 
Yes,  my  brethren,  there  is  not  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment, 
but  which,  properly  employed,  may  merit  us  heaven.  A 
fingle  day  loft,  ought,  therefore,  to  leave  to  us  remorfes, 
a  thoufand  times  more  lively  and  poignant,  than  the  failure 
of  the  greateft  worldly  profpefts ;  yet,  neverthelefs,  this 
time  is  a  burden  to  us :  Our  whole  life  is  only  one  continu- 
ed fcience  to  lofe  it ;  and  in  fpite  of  all  our  anxieties  to  wafte 
it,  there  always,  however,  remains  more  than  we  know 
how  to  employ ;  and  yet,  the  thing  upon  the  earth  we  have 
the  fmalleft  value  for,  is  our  time  :  Our  a£ls  of  kindnefs, 
we  referve  for  our  friends  :  Our  bounties,  for  our  depend- 
ents :  Our  riches,  for  our  children  and  relations :  Ourpraifes, 
for  thofe  who  appear  worthy  of  them  :  Our  time  we  give 
to  all  the  world  :  We  expofe  it,  as  I  may  fay,  a  prey  to 
all  mankind  :  They  even  do  us  a  pleafure  in  delivering  us 
from  it  :  It  is  a  weight,  as  it  were,  which  we  fupport  in  the 
midft  of  the  world,  while  inceflantly  in  fcarch  of  fome  one 
who  may  eafe  us  of  its  burden.  In  this  manner,  time, 
that  gift  of  God,  that  moft  precious  blefling  of  his  clem- 
ency, and  which  ought  to  be  the  price  of  our  eternity, 
occafions  all  our  embarrafTments,  all  our  wearinefTes,  and 
becomes  the  moft  oppreflive  burden  of  our  life. 

But  a  fecond  reafon,  which  makes  us  feel,  ftill  more  fenfi- 
bly,  our  abfurdity  in  fetting  fo  little  value  upon  the  time 
the  Almighty  leaves  to  us,  is,  that  not  only  it  is  the  price 
of  our  eternity,  but  likewife,  it  is  fhort,  and  we  cannot 

haften 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  I93 

haften  too  much  to  employ  it  to  advantage.      For,   my 
brethren,  had  we  even  a  long  feries  of  agcs^o  exill  upon 
the  earth,  that  fpace  would,  in  truth,  be   ftill  too  fhort  to 
be  employed  in  meriting  everlafting  happinefs  ;  yet  its  du- 
ration would  at  leaft  enable  us  to  retrieve  thofe  accidental 
loftes.     The  days  and  moments  loft,  would  at  leaft  form 
only  a  point,    fcarcely  perceptible,  in  that  long  feries  of 
ages  we  fhould  have  to  pafs  here  below.     But,  alas !  Our 
whole  life  is  itfelf  but  an  imperceptible  point:  The  longefl 
endures  [o  little  :  Our  days  and  our  years  are  fhut  up  in 
fuch  narrow  limits,  that  we  fee  not  what  we  can  have  ftill 
to  lofe,  in  a  fpace  fo  fhort  and  rapid.     We  are  only,  as  I 
may  fay,  a  moment  upon  the  earth;  like  thofe  fiery  ex- 
halations, which,  in  the  obfcurity  of  night,  are  feen  wan- 
dering in  the  air,  we  only  appear,  to  vanifh  in  a  moment, 
and  be  replunged,  for  ever,  into  our  original  and  everlaft- 
ing darknefs  :  The  exhibition  we  make  to  the  world  is  but 
a  ffafh,  which  is  extinguifhed  almoft  in  the  fame  moment, 
it  exifts  :  We  fay  it  ourfeives  every  day.     Alas!  How  can 
we  take  days  and  hours  of  reft,  from  a  life,  which  is  itfelf 
but  a  moment  ?  And  befides,  if  you  retrench  from  that 
moment,  all  you  are  under  the  neceftity  of  allowing  to  the 
indifpenfable  neceflities  of  the  body,  to  the  duties  of  your 
ftation,  to  unexpected  events,  and  the  inevitable  complai- 
fances  due  to  fociety,  what  remains  for  yourfelf,  for  God, 
and  for  eternity  ?  And  are  we  not  worthy  of  pity  ;    we, 
Who  know  not  how  to  employ  the  little  which  remains  to 
us,  and  who  fly  to  the  afti  fiance  of  a  thoufand  artifices  to 
abridge  its  duration  ? 

To  the  little  time,  my  brethren,  we  have  to  live  upon 
the  earth,  add  the  number  of  paft  crimes,  which  we  have  to 
expiate  in  this  fhort  interval.  How  many  iniquities  are 
collected  upon  our  heads,  fince  our  firft  years  :  Alas !  Ten 

Vol.  I.  A  a  live?, 


0 

194  SERMON     VII. 

lives,  like  ours,  would  fcarcely  fuffice  to  expiate  a  part  of 
them  :  The  time  would  ftill  be  too  fhort ;  and  it  would  be 
neceffaryto  call  upon  thegoodnefs  of  God,  to  prolong  the 
duration  of  our  penance.  Great  God  !  What  portion  can 
remain  to  me  for  pleafurcs  and  indolence,  in  a  life  fo  fhort 
and  fo  criminal  as  mine  ?  What  place,  then,  can  frivolous 
fports  and  amufements  find  in  an  interval  fo  rapid  ;  and 
which  altogether  would  not  fuffice  to  expiate  a  fingle  one 
of  my  crimes  ? 

Ah  !  my  brethren,  do  we  even  think  upon  it  ?  A  crimi- 
nal condemned  to  death,  and  to  whom  a  fingle  day  is  only 
allowed  to  endeavour  towards  obtaining  his  pardon,  would 
he  find  hours  and  moments  ftill  to  trifle  away  ?  Would  he 
complain  of  the  length  of  the  time,  which  the  humanity 
and  goodnefs  of  his  judge  had  awarded  him  ?  Would  he 
be  embarraffed  how  to  ufe  it  ?  Would  he  fearch  for  frivo- 
lous amufements  to  aflift  him  to  pafs  thofe  precious  mo- 
ments, which  were  left  him  to  merit  his  pardon  and  de- 
liverance ?  Would  he  not  endeavour  to  profit  by  an  inter- 
val fo  decifive  with  regard  to  his  deftiny  ?  Would  he  not 
replace,  by  the  anxiety,  vivacity,  and  continuance  of  his 
exertions,  what  might  be  wanting  from  the  brevity  of  the 
time  allowed  to  him  ?  Fools  that  we  are !  our  fentence  is 
pronounced  ;  our  guilt  renders  our  condemnation  certain  : 
We  are  left  a  fingle  day  to  fhun  the  evil,  and  to  change  the 
rigour  of  our  eternal  decree  :  And  this  only  day,  this  rapid 
day,  we  indolently  pafs  in  occupations  vain,  flothful,  and 
puerile. 

This  precious  day  is  a  burden  to  us,  wearies  us  ;  we 
feek  to  abridge  it;  fcarcely  can  we  find  amufements  fuffi- 
cient  to  fill  the  void  ;  the  evening  arrives,  without  our 
having  made  any  other  ufe  of  the  day  left  to  us,  than  that 

of 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME, 


*95 


of  rendering  ourfelves  ftill  more  worthy  of  the  condemna- 
tion we  had  already  merited.  And  befides,  my  brethren, 
how  do  we  know,  that  the  abufe  of  the  day,  left  to  us  by 
the  Almighty's  goodnefs,  will  not  oblige  his  juftice  to 
abridge,  and  to  cut  of  a  portion  of  it  ?  How  many  unex- 
pected accidents  may  arrefl  us  in  a  courfe  fo  limited,  and 
crop,  in  their  fairefl  blofToms,  the  hopes  of  a  longer  life  ! 
How  many  fudden  and  aftonifhing  deaths  do  we  fee ;  and 
generally  the  juft  punifhment  of  the  unworthy  ufe  they  had 
made  of  life  !  What  age  has  ever  witnefTed  more  of  thefe 
melancholy  examples  ?  Formerly  thefe  accidents  were  rare 
and  fingular ;  at  prefent,  they  are  events  which  happen 
every  day.  Whether  it  be,  that  our  crimes  have  drawn 
down  upon  us  this  punifhment ;  whether  it  be,  that  excefles 
unknown  to  our  forefathers  lead  us  to  them  ;  but  at  prefent 
they  are  the  deaths  moft  common  and  frequent.  Number, 
if  you  can,  thofe  of  your  relations,  friends,  and  connec- 
tions, whom  a  fudden  death  hasfurprifed  without  prepara- 
tion, repentance,  or  a  moment  allowed  them  to  reflect  upon 
themfelves,  upon  that  God  whom  they  have  offended,  and 
upon  thofe  crimes  which,  far  from  detefting,  they  never 
had  leifure  fufficiently  to  be  acquainted  with. 

Will  you  tell  us  after  this,  that  there  are  many  fpare  mo- 
ments in  the  day  :  That  we  muft  contrive  to  amufe  ourfelves 
fome  way  or  other  ? 

There  are  many  fpare  moments  in  the  day  ?  But  your 
guilt  confifts  in  leaving  them  in  that  frightful  void :  The 
days  of  the  upright  are  always  full.  Spare  moments  in  the 
day  :  Butare  your  duties  always  fulfilled  ?  Are  your  houfes 
regulated,  your  children  inftru&ed,  the  afflicled  reliev- 
ed, the  poor  vifited,  the  works  of  piety  accomplifhed  ? 
Time  is  fhort :  Your  obligations  fo  infinite ;  and  you  can 

flill 


3p6  SERMON     VII. 

flill  find  fo  many  fpare  moments  in  the  day  ?  My  God! 
How  many  holy  characters  have  in  folitude  complained, 
that  their  days  patted  too  rapidly  away ;  have  borrowed 
from  the  night,  what  the  brevity  of  the  day  had  taken  from 
their  labours  and  zeal ;  have  lamented,  even  in  the  calm 
and  leifure  of  their  folitude,  that  fufficient  time  remained 
not  for  them  to  publifh  thy  praifes,  and  eternal  mercies  : 
And  we,  charged  with  a  multiplicity  of  cares ;  we,  in  the 
midft  of  the  folicitudes  and  engagements  of  the  age,  which 
abforb  almoft  all  our  days  and  moments;  we,  refponfible 
to  our  relations,  to  our  children,  to  our  friends,  to  our  in- 
feriors, to  our  fuperiors,  to  our  flations,  to  our  country, 
for  fuch  an  infinity  of  duties ;  we  ftill  find  a  void  in  our 
life ;  and  the  little  which  remains  to  us,  we  think  too  long 
to  be  employed  in  ferving  and  blefling  thy  holy 'name  ? 

But  we  are  happy,  you  fay,  when  we  know  how  to 
amufe  ourfelves,  and  innocently  to  pafs  away  the  time. 
But  how  do  you  know  that  your  courfe  is  not  already  run  ; 
and  that  you  do  not  perhaps  touch  the  fatal  moment  which 
commences  your  eternity  ?  Does  your  time  belong  to  you, 
to  be  difpofed  of  as  you  pleafe  ?  Time  itfelf  paffes  away  fo 
foon  ;  and  are  fo  many  amufcments  neceffary  to  aflifl  it  in 
pafiing  ftill  more  rapidly  ? 

But,  is  time  given  to  you  for  nothing  ferious,  great,  and 
eternal ;  nothing  worthy  of  the  elevation  and  deftiny  of 
man  ?  And  the  Chriftian  and  inheritor  of  heaven,  is  he 
upon  the  earth,  only  to  amufe  himfelf  ? 

But  are  there  not,  you  fay,  many  innocent  recreations 
in  life  ?  I  grant  there  are  many  :  But  recreations  fuppofe 
pains  and  cares,  which  have  preceded  them  ;  while  your 
whole  life  is  one  continued  recreation.     Recreations  are 

permitted 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  I97 

permitted  tothofe  who,  after  fulfilling  their  duties,  are  un- 
der the  neceflity  of  according  fome  moments  of  relaxation 
to  the  weaknefs  of  human  nature  :  But  you,  if  you  have 
occafion  for  relaxation,  it  is  from  the  continuance  of  your 
pleafures,  and  even  what  you  call  your  recreations  :  It  is 
from  the  rage  of  inordinate  gaming,  of  which  the  dura- 
tion and  earneft  attention  necefTary,  befides  the  lofs  of  time, 
renderyou  incapable,  on  quitting  it,  of  application  to  any 
other  duty  of  your  ftation.  What  recreation  can  you  find 
in  a  lawlefs  and  boundlefs  paflion,  which  occupies  almofl 
your  whole  life  ;  ruins  your  health  ;  deranges  your  fortune, 
and  renders  you  the  continual  fport  of  a  miferable  chance? 
And  it  is  not  with  f'uch  characters  that  we  find  neither  or- 
der, rule,  or  difcipline?  All  ferious  duties  forgotten;  dif- 
orderly  fervants  ;  children  miferably  educated  ;  affairs  de- 
clining;  and  public  fcorn  and  contempt  attached  to  their 
names,  and  their  unfortunate  poflerity  ?  The  paflion  of 
gaming  is  almofl  never  unaccompanied  ;  and  to  thofe  of 
one  fex  efpecially,  is  always  the  fource,  or  the  occafion  of 
all  the  others  :  Thefe  are  the  recreations  you  believe  inno- 
cent, and  necefTary  to  fill  up  the  empty  moments  of  the  day. 

Ah  !  my  brethren,  how  many  of  the  reprobate,  in  the 
midfl  of  their  anguifh  and  punifhments,  entreat  from  the 
mercy  of  God,  only  one  of  thofe  moments,  which  we 
inow  not  how  to  employ  ;  and  could  their  requefl  be 
granted,  what  ufe  would  they  not  make  of  that  precious 
moment  ?  How  many  tears  of  compunction  and  penitence! 
How  many  prayers  and  fupplications,  to  foften  the  Father 
of  Mercies,  and  to  induce  his  paternal  feelings  to  rcflorc 
to  them  his  affection  !  This  only  moment  is  neverthclefs  re- 
fufed  :  Time,  they  are  told,  exiffs  no  more  for  them  ;  and 
you  find  yourfelves  embarraffed  with  the  little  you  are 
left  ?  God  will  judge  you,  my  brethren  ;  and  on  the  bed 

of 


I98  SERMON     VII. 

of  death,  and  in  that  terrible  hour  which  mall  furprife 
you,  in  vain  fhall  you  demand  a  little  more  time  :  In  vain 
fhall  you  promife  to  God,  a  more  Chriflian  ufe  of  what 
you  will  endeavour  to  obtain  :  His  juftice,  without  pity, 
will  cut  the  thread  of  your  days  :  And  that  time,  which 
now  oppreffes  and  embarraffes  you,  fhall  then  be  denied. 

But  in  what  our  blindnefs  here  is  ftill  more  confpicuous, 
is,  that  not  only  the  time  which  we  lofe  with  fo  much  in- 
difference and  infenfibility,  is  fhort  and  precious,  but  like- 
wife  irreparable ;  for  once  loft,  it  is  for  ever  gone,  with- 
out refource. 

I  fay  irreparable  :  For,  in  the  firfl  place,  riches,  hon- 
ours, reputation,  and  favour,  though  once  loft,  may  again 
be  retrieved.  We  may  even  replace  each  of  thefe  loffes, 
by  other  acquirements,  which  will  repay  us  with  ufury  : 
But  the  moments  loft  in  inutility,  are  fo  many  means  of 
falvation,  which  we  never  again  can  poffefs,  but  which  are 
for  ever  cut  off  from  the  number,  which  God,  in  his  com- 
panion, had  allotted  to  us.  Indeed,  in  a  fpace  fo  fhort  as 
we  have  to  live,  there  cannot  be  a  doubt,  but  that  the  Al- 
mighty had  his  particular  defigns,  with  regard  to  each  of 
our  days  and  moments  ;  that  he  hath  marked  the  ufe  we 
ought  to  have  made  of  them  ;  the  connection  they  were  to 
have  with  our  eternal  falvation  ;  and  that  to  each  of  them 
he  hath  attached  affiftances  of  grace,  in  order  to  confum- 
mate  the  work  of  our  fan&ification.  Now,  thefe  days  and 
moments  being  loft,  the  grace  attached  to  them  muft  be 
equally  fo  :  The  moments  of  God  are  finifhed,  and  re- 
turn no  more  :  The  courfe  of  his  mercies  is  regulated  : 
We  believed  they  were  only  ufelcfs  moments  we  had  loft  ; 
and  with  them  we  have  loft  ineftimable  fuccours  of  grace  ; 

which 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  199 

which  we  find  deduced  from  thofe  the  goodnefs  of  God 
had  deftined  for  us. 

In  the  fecond  place,  Irreparable,  becaufe  every  day, 
every  moment,  ought  to  advance  us  a  Hep  nearer  hea- 
ven :  Now,  the  days  and  moments  loft  leaving  us  in  ar  - 
rear,  and  the  duration  of  our  courfe  being  alfo  determined, 
the  end  arrives  when  we  are  yet  at  adiftance;  when  there 
is  no  longer  time  to  fupply  the  remainder  of  the  career; 
or,  at  leaft,  to  regain  the  loft  moments,  and  reach  the  goal, 
we  muft  double  our  fpeed  :  In  one  day,  fill  up  the  courfe 
of  many  years  ;  make  the  moft  heroic  exertions  ;  and  haf- 
ten  in  a  degree,  even  beyond  our  ftrength  :  Proceed  to  ex- 
cefTes  of  holinefs,  which  are  miracles  of  grace,  and  oi 
which  the  generality  of  men  are  incapable  ;  and  confummate, 
in  fmall  interval,  what  ought  to  be  the  labour  of  a  whole 
life. 

In  the  lajl  place,  Irreparable,  with  refpecT:  to  the  works 
of  penance  and  reparation,  of  which,  in  a  certain  period 
of  life,  we  are  capable,  but  are  no  longer  fo,  when  we 
wait  the  infirmities  of  a  more  advanced  age.  For,  after  all, 
it  is  in  vain  to  fay  then,  that  God  expecls  not  impofiibili- 
ties ;  that  there  is  a  penance  for  every  age  ;  and  that  reli- 
gion does  not  wifh  us  to  haften  our  days,  under  the  pretext 
of  expiating  our  crimes  :  It  is  you  who  have  placed  your- 
felves  in  this  ftate  of  impombility  :  Your  fins  diminifh  not 
your  obligations :  Guilt  muft  be  punifhed,  in  order  to  be 
effaced.  The  Almighty  had  allowed  you  both  time  and 
ftrength,  to  fatisfy  this  immutable  and  eternal  law  :  This 
time  you  have  wafted  in  accumulating  new  debts  :  This 
ftrength  you  have  exhaufted,  either  by  new  exceftes,  or  at 
leaft,  without  making  any  ufe  of  it,  to  further  the  de- 
fies of  God  refpe£ting  you  :  The  Almighty  muft  there- 
fore 


200  SERMON     VII. 

lore  do,  what  you  have  never  done  yourfelves,  and  punifh 
after  your  death,  the  crimes  you  have  never  been  inclin- 
ed to  expiate  during  your  life. 

This  is  to  fay,  in  order  to  concentrate  all  thefe  reflections, 
that  with  every  moment  of  our  life,  it  is  as  with  our  death  : 
We  die  only  once  :  and  from  thence  we  conclude,  that 
we  mull  die  in  a  proper  flate,  becaufe  there  is  no  lon- 
ger a  poflibility  of  returning,  to  repair,  by  a  fecond  death 
the  evil  of  the  firft  :  In  like  manner,  we  only  once  exift, 
fuch  and  fuch  moments  :  We  cannot  return  upon  our  fteps, 
and,  by  commencing  a  new  road,  repair  the  errors  and 
faults  of  our  firft  path  :  In  like  manner,  every  moment  of 
our  life  which  we  facrifice,  becomes  a  point  fixed  for  our 
eternity  ;  that  moment  ldft,  fhall  change  no  more  :  It  fhall 
eternally  be  the  fame  ;  it'  will  be  recalled  to  us,  fuch  as  w7e 
had  palled  it,  and  will  be  marked  with  that  ineffaceable 
ftamp.  How  miferable,  then  is  our  blindnefs,  my  brethren  ; 
we,  whofe  life  is  only  one  continued  attention  to  lofe  the 
time  which  returns  no  more,  and  with  fo  rapid  a  courfe, 
flies  to  precipitate  itfelf  into  the  abyfs  of  eternity  ! 

Great  God !  Thou  who  art  the  fovereign  difpenfer  of  times 
and  moments  :  Thou  in  whofe  hands  are  our  days  and  our 
years,  with  what  eyes  mud  thou  behold  us  lofing  and  difli- 
pating  the  moments  of  which  thou  alone  knowefl  the  dura- 
tion ;  of  which,  in  irrevocable  characters,  thou  haft  mark- 
ed the  courfe  and  mcafure  ;  moments,  which  thou  draweft 
from  the  treafure  of  thine  eternal  mercies,  to  allow  us  time 
for  penitence  :  Moments,  whichever)' day,  thyjufticepref- 
fes  thee  to  abridge,  as  a  punifhment  for  their  abufe  ;  mo- 
ments, which,  every  day  before  our  eyes,  thou  refufefl  to 
fo  many  finners,  lefs  culpable  than  we,  whom  a  terrible 
death  furprifes,  and  drags  into  the  gulf  of  thine  eternal 

vengeance  ; 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  20 1 

vengeance  :  Moments,  in  a  word,  which  we  mall  not  per- 
haps long  enjoy ;  and  of  which  thou  foon  intendeft  to  ter- 
minate the  melancholy  career !  Great  God,  Behold  the 
greateft,  and  the  beft  part  of  my  life,  already  part,  and 
wholly  loft  :  In  all  my  days,  there  has  not  hitherto  been  a 
fingle  ferious  one  :  A  (ingle  day  for  thee,  for  my  falvation, 
and  for  eternity  :  My  whole  life  is  but  a  vapour,  which 
leaves  nothing  real  or  folid  in  the  hand  of  him  who  recals 
it.  Shall  I,  to  the  end,  drag  on  my  days  in  this  melancholy 
inutility  ;  in  this  wearinefs  which  purfues  me,  in  the  midft 
of  my  pleafures,  and  the  efforts  which  unavailingly  I  make 
to  avoid  it  ?  Shall  the  laft  hour  furprife  me,  loaded  with 
the  void  of  my  whole  years  ?  And  in  all  my  courfe,  fhall 
there  be  nothing  ferious  or  important,  but  the  laft  moment, 
which  will  terminate  it  for  ever,  and  decide  my  everlafting 
deftiny  ?  Great  God  !  what  a  life,  for  a  foul  deftined  to 
ferve  Thee,  called  to  the  immortal  fociety  of  thy  Son,  and 
thy  faints,  enriched  with  thy  gifts,  and  in  confequence  of 
them,  capable  of  works  worthy  of  eternity  !  What  a  life, 
is  that  life,  which,  in  reality,  is  nothing,  has  nothing  in 
view,  and  fills  up  a  time  which  is  decifive  of  its  eternal 
deftiny,  in  doing  nothing,  and  reckoning  as  well  puffed, 
thofe  days  and  hours  which  imperceptibly  flip  away  ! 

But  if  inutility  be  oppofite  to  the  price  of  time,  irregu- 
larity and  multiplicity  of  occupations  are  not  lef's  fo,  to  the 
proper  order  of  time,  and  to  the  Chriftian  ufe  we  ought  to 
make  of  it.  You  have  juft  feen  the  dangers  of  a  flothful, 
and  I  will  now  lay  down  before  you  the  inconveniencies  of 
a  hurried  life. 

Part  II.  To  every  thing  we  have  hitherto  faid,  my  bre- 
thren, the  majority  of  thofe  who  liflen  to  me,  have  no 
doubt  fecretly  oppofed,  that  their  life  is  any  thing  but  floth- 

Vol.  I.  B  b  ful 


2CS  SERMON  VII. 

ful  and  ufelefs  ;  that  fcarcely  can  they  fuffice,  for  the  du- 
ties, good  offices,  and  endlefs  engagements  of  their  ftations  ; 
that  they  live  in  an  eternal  viciflitude  of  occupations  and 
bufinefs,  which  abforbs  their  whole  life  ;  and  that  they 
think  themfelves  happy,  when  they  can  accomplifh  a  mo- 
ment for  themfelves,  and  enjoy  at  leifure,  the  iituation 
which  their  fortune  denies  to  them. 

Now  this,  my  brethren,  is  a  new  way  of  abufing  time, 
ftill  more  dangerous  than  even  inutility  and  indolence.  In 
eliecl:  the  Chriftian  ufe  of  time,  is  not  merely  the  filling 
up  of  all  its  moments  ;  it  is  that  of  filling  them  up  in  order, 
and  according  to  the  will  of  the  Lord,  who  gives  them  to 
us  :  The  life  of  faith,  is  a  life  of  regularity  and  wifdom  : 
Fancy,  paflion,  pride,  and  cupidity,  are  falfe  principles 
of  conduct,  fince  they  themfelves  are  only  a  derangement 
of  the  mind  and  heart ;  and  that  order  and  reafon  ought  to 
be  our  only  guides. 

Neverthelefs  the  life  of  the  majority  of  men,  is  a  life 
always  occupied,  and  always  ufelefs  ;  always  laborious,  and 
always  void  :  Their  paflions  give  birth  to  all  their  motions  : 
Thefe  are  the  great  fprings  which  agitate  men  ;  make  them 
run  here  and  there  like  madmen  ;  and  leave  them  not  a  fin- 
gle  moment's  tranquillity  ;  and  in  filling  up  all  their  mo- 
ments, they  feek  not  to  fulfil  their  duties,  but  to  deliver 
themfelves  up  to  their  refllefTnefs,  and  to  fatisfy  their  ini- 
quitous defires. 

But  in  what  doth  this  order  confiff,  which  ought  to  re- 
gulate the  meafure  of  our  occupations,  and  to  fan&ify  the 
ufe  of  our  time?  It  con  fills,  in  the  firft  place,  in  limiting 
ourfelves  to  the  occupations  attached  to  our  ftations  :  In 
not  feeking  places  and  filuations  which  may  multiply  them  ; 

and 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  20 3 

and  in  not  reckoning  among  our  duties,  the  cares  and 
embarrafiments,  which  anxiety,  or  our  paffions,  alone  ge- 
nerate within  us.  Secondly,  However  agitated  may  be 
our  fituations,  amidft  all  our  occupations,  to  regard  as  the 
moft  effential,  and  the  moft  privileged,  thofe  we  owe  to* 
our  falvation. 

I  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  not  to  reckon  amongft  the  occu- 
pations which  fan&ify  the  ufe  of  our  time,  thofe  which 
reitlefTnefs,  or  the  paffions  alone  generate. 

Reftleflhefs  :  Yes,  my  brethren,  we  all  wifh  to  avoid 
ourfelves :  To  the  generality  of  men,  nothing  is  more  me- 
lancholy and  difagreeable,  than  to  find  themfelves  alone, 
and  obliged  to  review  their  own  hearts.  As  vain  paffions 
carry  us  away ;  as  many  criminal  attachments  {lain  us  ; 
and  as  many  thoufands  illicit  defires  occupy  every  moment 
of  our  heart  ;  in  entering  into  ourfelves,  we  find  only  an 
anfwer  of  death,  a  frightful  void,  cruel  remorfes,  dark 
thoughts,  and  melancholy  reflections.  We  fearcb,  there- 
fore, in  the  variety  of  occupations,  and  continual  diffrac- 
tions, an  oblivion  of  ourfelves :  We  dread  leifure  as  the 
fignal  of  wearinefs  ;  and  weexpecl:  to  find  in  the  confufion 
and  multiplicity  of  external  cares,  that  happy  intoxication, 
which  enables  us  to  go  on  without  perceiving  it,  and  makes 
us  no  longer  to  feel  the  weight  of  ourfelves. 

But  ala  !  we  deceive  ourfelves :  Wearinefs  is  never 
found  but  in  irregularity,  and  in  a  life  of  confufion,  where 
every  thing  is  out  of  its  place  :  It  is  in  living  by  hazard, 
that  we  are  a  burden  to  ourfelves  :  that  we  continually 
fearch  after  new  occupations,  and  that  difguft  foon  obliges 
us  to  repent  that  we  ever  fought  for  them  ;  that  we  incef- 
fantly  change  our  fituation,  in  order  to  fly  from  ourfelves ; 

and 


204 


SERMON    VII. 


and  that  wherever  we  go,  we  carry  ourfelves :  In  a  word,  that 
our  whole  life  is  but  a  diverfified  art,  to  fhun  wearinefs, 
and  a  miferable  talent  to  find  it.  Wherever  order  is  not, 
wearinefs  mull  neceflarily  be  found  :  and  far  from  a  life  of 
irregularity  and  conf ufion  being  a  remedy,  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  the  molt  fruitful  fource,  and  univerfal  caufe  of  it. 

The  juft  fouls  who  live  in  regularity  ;  they  who  yield  no- 
thing tocapriceand  temper  ;  whofe  every  occupation  is  ex- 
actly where  it  ought  to  be  ;  whofe  moments  are  filled  up,  ac- 
cording to  their  deftination,  and  to  the  will  of  the  Lord  who 
directs  them,  find  in  order,  a  perlecl;  remedy  againft,  and 
protection  from  wearinefs.  That  wife  uniformity  in  the  prac- 
tice of  duties,  which  appear  fo  gloomy  in  the  eyes  of  the 
wTorld,  is  the  fource  of  their  joy,  and  of  that  happy  equality 
of  temper,  which  nothing  can  derange  :  Never  embarrafled 
with  the  prefent  time,  which  ftated  duties  occupy :  Never  in 
pain  with  regard  to  the  future,  for  which  new  duties  are  ar- 
ranged :  Never  delivered  up  to  themfelves,  by  the  change  of 
occupations,  which  fucceed  each  other  :  Their  days  appear 
as  moments,  becaufe  every  moment  is  in  its  place  :  Time 
hangs  not  upon  them,  becaufe  it  always  has  itsdiftinction 
and  ufe  :  and  in  the  arrangement  of  an  uniform  an  occupied 
life,  they  find  that  peace,  and  that  joy,  which  the  reft  of  men 
in  vainfearch  for  in  the  confufion  of  a  continual  agitation. 

Reftleffhefs,  by  multiplying  our  occupations,  leaves  us, 
therefore,  a  prey  to  wearinefs  and  difguft  ;  nor  yet  does  it 
fanclify  the  ufe  of  our  time  :  For  if  the  moments,  not  re- 
gulated by  the  order  of  God,  are  moments  loft,  however 
occupied  they  may  otherwife  be  ;  if  the  life  of  man  ought 
to  be  a  life  of  wifdom  and  regularity,  where  every  occupa- 
tion has  its  allotted  place  ;  what  can  be  more  oppofite  to 
fuch  a  life  than  this  inconfiftency,  thefe  eternal  fluctuations 

in 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  205 

in  which  reftleflhefs  makes  us  pafs  our  time  ?  But  the  paf- 
fions  which  keep  us  in  perpetual  motion,  do  not  form  for 
us  more  legitimate  employments. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  I  know  that  it  is  only  in  a  certain  age  of 
life,  that  we  appear  occupied  with  frivolity  and  pleafures  ; 
more  ferious  cares,  and  more  folid  avocations  fucceed  to 
the  indolence,  and  to  the  vain  amufements  of  our  younger 
years  ;  and  after  wafting  our  youth  in  floth  and  in  pleafures, 
we  appropriate  our  maturity,  to  our  country,  to  fortune, 
and  to  ourfelves  ;  but  ftill  with  refpett  to  heaven  we  con- 
tinue the  fame.  I  confefs  that  we  owe  our  fervices  to  our 
country,  to  our  Sovereign,  and  to  the  national  cares  ;  that 
amongft  the  number  of  duties  prefcribed  to  us  by  religion, 
it  places  that  of  zeal  for  our  Sovereign,  and  for  the  inte- 
reft  and  glory  of  our  country  ;  and  that  religion  alone  can 
form  faithful  fubje&s,  and  citizens  ever  ready  to  facrifice 
their  all  for  the  general  good.  But  religion  wifhes  not  that 
pride  and  ambition  fhould  rafhly  plunge  us  in  public  af- 
fairs ;  and  that  we  fhould  anxioufly  endeavour  by  all  pofii- 
ble  means,  by  intrigue  and  folicitations,  to  attain  places, 
where,  owing  every  thing  to  others,  not  a  moment  is  left 
for  ourfelves :  Religion  wilhes  us  to  dread  thefe  tumultu- 
ous fituations  ;  to  give  ourfelves  up  to  them  with  regret  and 
trembling,  when  the  order  of  God,  and  the  authority  of 
our  mafters,  call  us  to  them ;  and  where  the  choice  left  to 
us,  always  to  prefer  the  fafetyand  leifure  of  a  private  ftation, 
to  the  dangers  and  eclat  of  dignities  and  places.  Alas ! 
We  have  a  fhort  time  to  exift  upon  the  earth,  and  the  falva- 
tion,  or  eternal  condemnation  which  awaits  us,  is  fo  near, 
that  every  other  care  ought  to  be  melancholy  and  burden- 
fome  to  us  ;  and  every  thing  which  diverts  our  attention 
from  that  grand  obje6l,  for  which  we  are  allowed  only  a 
fmal!  portion  of  days,  ought  to  appear  as  the  hcavieft  mis- 
fortune. 


2o6"  SERMON     VII. 

fortune.     This  is  not  a  maxim  of  pure  fpirituality ;  it  is 
the  firft  maxim,  and  the  foundation  of  Chriflianity. 

Neverthelefs,  ambition,  pride,  and  all  ourpaflions,  unite 
to  render  a  private  life  infupportable  to  us.  What  in  life 
we  dread  mod,  is  a  lot  and  aftation  which  leave  us  to  our- 
felves, and  do  not  eftablifh  us  upon  others.  We  confult 
neither  the  order  of  God,  nor  the  views  of  religion,  nor 
the  dangers  of  a  too  agitated  fituation,  nor  the  happinefs 
which  faith  points  out  in  a  private  and  tranquil  ftation, 
where  we  have  nothing  but  ourfelves  to  anfwer  for,  and 
frequently  not  even  our  talents ;  we  confult  only  our  paf- 
fions,  and  that  infatiable  defire  oi  raifing  ourfelves  above 
our  brethren  ;  we  wifh  to  figure  upon  the  ftage  of  life,  and 
become  great  perfonages  ;  and  upon  a  flage,  alas !  which 
to-morrow  mail  difappear,  and  leave  us  nothing  real,  but 
the  puerile  trouble,  and  pain  oi  having  a£ted  upon  it. 
Even  the  more  thefe  ftations  appear  furrounded  with  tu- 
mult and  embarrafTment,  the  more  do  they  appear  worthy 
of  our  purfuit :  We  wifh  to  be  in  every  thing  :  That  lei- 
lure  fo  dear  to  a  religious  foul,  to  us  appears  fhameful  and 
mean  :  Every  thing  which  divides  us  betwixt  the  public 
and  ourfelves  :  Every  thing  which  gives  to  others  an  abfo- 
lute  right  over  our  time :  Every  thing  which  plunges  us 
into  that  abyfs  of  cares  and  agitations,  which  credit,  fa- 
vour, and  confideration  drag  after  them,  affecls,  attracts, 
and  tranfports  us.  Thus,  the  majority  of  men  inconfide- 
rately  create  to  themfelves  a  tumultuous  and  agitated  life, 
which  the  Almighty  never  required  of  them ;  and  eagerly 
feek  for  cares,  where  they  cannot  be  in  fafety,  unlefs  the 
order  of  God  had  prepared  them  for  us. 

Indeed,  we  fometimes  hear  them  complaining  of  the 
endlefs  agitations  infeparable  from  their  places  ;  fighing  for 

reft 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME  207 

reft,  and  envying  the  lot  of  a  tranquil  and  private  ftation ; 
repeating,  that  it  fhould  indeed  be  time  to  live  for  them- 
felves,  after  having  fo  long  lived  for  others.  But  thefe  are 
merely  words  of  courfe  :  They  feem  to  groan  under  the 
weight  of  affairs  ;  but  with  much  more  uneafinefs  and 
grief,  would  they  fupport  the  weight  of  leifure  and  of  a 
private  condition  :  They  employ  one  part  of  their  life,  in 
ftruggling  againft  each  other  for  the  tumult  of  places  and 
employments,  and  the  other  they  employ  in  lamenting  the 
misfortune  of  having  obtained  them.  It  is  a  language  of 
vanity  :  They  would  wifh  to  appear  fuperior  to  their  for- 
tune ;  and  they  are  not  fo,  to  the  fmalleft  reverfe,  or  the 
flighted  fymptom  of  coldnefs  which  threatens  them.  Be- 
hold how  our  paffions  create  occupations  and  embarraff- 
ments,  which  God  required  not :  and  deprive  us  of  a 
time,  whofe  value  we  mall  be  ignorant  of,  till  we  reach 
that  lafl  moment,  when  time  finifhes,  and  eternity  begins. 

Yet  ftill  my  brethren,  in  the  midftof  the  endlefs  occupa- 
tions attached  to  your  ftations,  were  you  to  regard  as  the 
molt  privileged,  thofe  connected  with  your  falvation,  you 
would  in  fome  meafure  at  leaft,  repair  the  diffipation  of  that 
portion  of  your  life,  which  the  world  and  the  cares  of  this 
earth  entirely  occupy.  But  it  is  ftill  in  this  point  that  our 
blindnefs  is  deplorable  :  We  cannot  find  time  for  our  eter- 
nal falvation.  That  which  we  beftow  on  fortune,  the  du- 
ties of  a  charge,  the  good  offices  expected  from  our  fta- 
tion, the  care  of  the  body,  and  attentions  to  drefs ;  that 
which  we  give  to  friendfhip,  fociety,  recreation,  and  cuf- 
tom,  all  appear  effential  and  indifpenfable  :  We  even  dare 
not  encroach  upon,  or  limit  thefe  :  We  carry  them  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  even  reafon  and  neceffity;  and  as  life 
is  too  fhort,  and  our  days  too  rapid,  to  fuffice  for  all, 
whatever  we  retrench,  is  from  the  cares  of  our  falvation: 

In 


208  SERMON     VII. 

In  the  multiplicity  of  our  occupations,  we  are  Cure  to  facri- 
fice  thofe  which  we  ought  to  bellow  on  eternity.  Yes,  my 
brethren,  in  place  of  retrenching  from  our  amufements  j 
from  the  ceremonies  which  idlenefs  alone  has  ellablifh- 
ed ;  from  the  duties  which  ambition  multiplies ;  from 
the  cares  and  attentions  which  we  beftow  on  a  vain 
drefs,  which  cuftom  and  effeminacy  have  rendered  endlefs  : 
In  place  of  retrenching  from  thefe,  at  leaft  fome  little  time 
every  day,  fcarcely  do  they  leave  us  fome  accidental  re- 
mains, which  by  chance  have  efcaped  from  the  world  and 
pleafure:  Some  rapid  moments,  the  world  wifhes  not; 
with  which  we  are  perhaps  embarraffed;  and  which  we 
know  not  how  to  difpofe  of  otherwife.  So  long  as  the 
world  chufes  to  engage  us  ;  fo  long  as  it  continues  to  offer 
pleafures,  duties,  trifles,  and  complaifances,  we  yield  our- 
felves  up  to  it  with  delight.  When  all  is  over,  and  we  no 
longer  know  how  to  fill  up  our  vacant  hours,  wc  then  con- 
fecrate  to  fome  languid  practices  of  religion,  thofe  outcaft 
moments,  which  wearinefs,  or  a  deficiency  of  pleafures, 
leaves  us :  Properly  fpeaking,  they  are  moments  of  recre- 
ation, which  we  beftow  upon  ourfelves  rather  than  upon 
God  :  An  interval,  we  place  between  the  world  and  us,  in 
order  to  return  to  it  with  more  relifh ;  and  breathe  a  little 
from  the  fatigue,  the  difguft,  and  the  fatiety,  which  are  the 
neceflary  confequences  of  a  life  devoted  to  the  world  and 
pleafures,  which,  prolonged  beyond  a  certain  meafure,  are 
immediately  followed  by  wearinefs  and  laffitude. 

Such  is  the  ufe,  which  even  perfons,  who  deck  them- 
felves  out  with  a  reputation  for  virtue,  make  of  their  time. 
Their  whole  life  is  one  continue  dand  criminal  preference, 
given  to  the  world,  fortune,  ceremony,  and  pleafures, 
above  the  bufinefs  of  their  falvation :  All  is  filled  up  by 
what  they  give  to  their  mailers,  friends,  places,  and  appe- 
tites. 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  209 

tites,  and  nothing  remains  for  God  and  for  eternity.  It 
would  appear,  that  time  is  given  to  us,  in  the  firft.  place, 
for  the  world,  ambition,  and  earthly  cares  ;  and  mould  any 
portion  of  it  happen  afterwards  to  remain,  that  we  are  en- 
titled to  praife,  when  we  bellow  it  on  our  falvation. 

Great  God  !  For  what  purpofe  dolt  thou  leave  us  on  the 
earth,  but  to  render  ourfelves  worthy  of  thine  eternal  pof- 
feflion  ?  Every  thing  we  do  for  the  world,  (hall  perifh  with 
it  ;  whatsoever  we  do  for  thee,  fhall  be  immortal.  All  our 
cares  and  attentions  here,  are  in  general  for  mafters,  un- 
grateful, unjuft,  difficult  to  pleafe,  weak,  and  incapable 
of  rendering  us  happy  :  The  duties  we  render  to  thee,  are 
■given  to  a  Lord  and  Mafter,  faithful,  juft,  companionate, 
almighty,  and  who  alone  can  recompenfe  thofe  who  ferve 
him  :  The  cares  of  the  earth  however  brilliant,  are  foreign 
to  us  ;  they  are  unworthy  of  us  ;  it  is  not  for  them  we  are 
created  ;  we  ought  only  to  devote  ourfelves  to  them  as  they 
pafs,  in  order  to  fatisfy  the  tranfitory  ties  they  exact  from 
us,  and  which  connect  us  with  mankind  :  The  cares  of 
eternity  alone  are  worthy  of  the  nobility  of  our  hopes, 
and  fill  all  the  grandeur  and  dignity  of  our  deftiny.  With- 
out the  cares  of  falvation,  thofe  of  this  earth  are  profane 
and  fullied  ;  they  are  no  longer  but  vain,  fruitlefs,  and  aJ- 
moft  always  criminal  agitations  :  The  cares  of  falvation 
alone  confecrate  and  fanctify  them  ;  give  to  them  reality, 
elevation,  the  price  and  the  merit  which  they  wanted.  All 
other  cares  wound,  trouble,  harden,  and  render  us  miTera*. 
ble  ;  but  the  duties  we  render  to  thee,  leave  us  a  real  and 
heartfelt  joy  :  They  ftrengthen,  calm,  and  confole  us ;  and 
even  foften  the  anguifh  and  bitternefs  of  the  others.  In  a 
word,  we  owe  ourfelves  to  thee,  O  my  God  !  before  maf- 
ters, inferiors,  friends,  or  connections.  Thou  alone  haft 
the  firft  right  over  our  hearts  and  reafon,   which  are  the 

Vol.  I.  C  c  gifts 


2fO  SERMON     VII. 

gifts  of  thy  liberal  hand;  it  is  for  thee,  therefore,  that  in 
the  firft  place  we  ought  to  make  ufe  of  them  ;  and  we  are 
Chriftians,  before  we  are  princes,  fubjecls,  public  charac- 
ters, or  any  thing  elfe  on  the  earth. 

You  will  perhaps  tell  us,  my  brethren,  that  in  fulfilling 
the  painful  and  endlefs  duties  attached  to  your  flation,  you 
believe  that  you  ferve  God,  accompliih  your  meafure  of 
righteoufnefs,  and  labour  toward  your  falvation.  I  grant 
it :  But  we  muft  fulfil  thefe  duties,  according  to  the  views 
of  the  Lord,  from  motives  of  faith,  and  in  the  true  fpirit 
of  religion  and  piety.  God  reckons  only  what  we  do  for 
him:  Of  all  our  pains,  fatigues,  fubmiflions  and  facrifices, 
he  accepts  only  thofe  which  are  offered  to  his  glory,  and 
not  to  our  own  ;  and  our  days  are  only  full  in  his  fight, 
when  they  are  full  for  eternity.  All  actions,  which  have 
nothing  for  their  object:  but  the  world  ;  a  fame  limited  to 
this  earth  ;  a  perifhable  fortune;  fome  praifes  they  may  at- 
tract to  us  from  men  ;  or  fome  degree  of  grandeur  and  re- 
putation, to  which  they  may  raife  us  here  below,  are  nothing 
in  his  prefence  ;  or,  at  leaft,  are  only  puerile  amufementSy 
unworthy  of  the  majefty  of  his  regards. 

Thus,  my  brethren,  how  different  are  the  judgments  of 
God  from  thofe  of  the  world  !  In  the  world  we  call  beau- 
tiful that  fplendid  life,  in  which  great  actions  are  numbered, 
victories  gained,  difficult  negociations  concluded,  under- 
takings fuccefsfully  conduced,  illuftrious  employments 
fupported  with  reputation,  eminent  dignities  acquired  by 
important  fervices,  and  exercifed  with  glory  ;  a  life  which 
paffes  into  hiftory,  fills  the  public  monuments,  and  of 
which  the  remembrance  fhallbe  prefcrved  to  thelateft  pos- 
terity :  Such,  according  to  the  world,  is  a  beautiful  life. 
But  if,  in  all  this,  they  have  fought  more  their  own,  than 

the 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  311 

the  glory  of  God  ;  if  they  have  had  nothing  more  in  view 
than  to  erecl:  to  themfelves  a  perifhable  edifice  of  grandeur 
on  the  earth,  in  vain  fhall  they  have  furnifhed  a  fplendid 
career  to  the  eyes  of  men  ;  in  the  fight  of  God,  it  is  a  life 
loft  :  In  vain  (hall  hiftory  record  us ;  we  fhall  be  effaced 
from  the  book  of  life,  and  from  the  eternal  hiftories ;  in 
vain  fhall  our  actions  be  the  admiration  of  ages  to  come ; 
they  fhall  not  be  written  on  the  immortal  columns  of  the 
Heavenly  Temple.  In  vain  fhall  we  have  afted  a  dignifi- 
ed part  upon  the  flage  of  all  earthly  ages ;  in  the  eternal 
ages  we  fhall  be  asthofe  who  never  were  :  In  vain  fhall  our 
titles  and  dignities  be  preferved  upon  the  marble  and  brafs ; 
as  the  fingers  of  men  have  written  them,  they  fhall  peri  fit 
with  them  ;  and  what  the  finger  of  God  fhall  have  written, 
will  alone  endure  as  long  as  himfelf.  In  vain  fhall  our  life 
be  propofed  as  a  model  to  the  ambition  of  our  del cendants  ; 
its  reality  exifling  only  in  the  paflions  of  men,  from  the 
moment  they  fhall  ceafe  to  have  paflions,  and  the  obje&s 
which  inflame  them  fhall  be  annihilated,  this  life  fhall  be 
nothing,  and  fhall  be  replunged  into  non-entity,  with  the 
world  which  admired  it. 

For  candidly,  my  brethren,  can  you  really  with,  that  in 
that  awful  and  terrible  day,  when  righteoufnefs  itfelf  fhall  be 
judged,  the  Almighty  mould  give  you  credit  for  all  the 
pains,  cares,  and  difgufls  you  have  experienced  and  de- 
voured, in  order  to  raife  yourfelves  in  the  world  ?  That  he 
fhould  regard,  as  well  employed,  the  time  you  have 
facrificed  to  the  world,  fortune,  glory,  and  the  elevation 
of  your  name  and  race,  as  if  you  were  upon  the  earth  only 
for  yourfelves  ?  That  he  fhould  place  among  the  number  of 
your  works  of  falvation,  thofe  which  have  only  had  for  prin- 
ciple ambition,  pride,  envy,  and  felf-intereft  ;  and  that  he 
ftiould  reckon  your  vices  amongft  your  virtues. 

And 


212  SERMON     VII. 

And  what  will  you  be  able  to  fay  to  him,  on 'the  bed  of 
death,  when  he  fhall  enter  into  judgment  with  you,  and 
demand  an  account  of  the  time,  which  he  had  only  granted 
you,  to  be  employed  in  glorifying  and  ferving  him  ?  Will 
you  fay  to  him  :  Lord,  I  have  gained  many  victories ;  I 
have  ufefully  andglorioufly  ferved  my  prince  and  country; 
I  have  eftablifhed  to  myfelf  a  great  name  amongft  men  ? 
alas !  you  have  never  been  able  to  gain  a  victory  over  your- 
felf  :  You  have  ufefully  ferved  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and 
you  have  neglecled,  with  contempt,  the  fervice  of  the  King 
of  kings.  You  have  eftablifhed  to  yourfelf  a  great  name 
amongft  men  ;  and  your  name  is  unknown  amongft  the  cho- 
fcn  of  God  :  Time  loft  for  eternity.  Will  you  fay  to  him  : 
I  have  conducted  the  moft  difficult  negotiations,  I  have 
concluded  the  moft  important  treaties  ;  I  have  managed  the 
interefts  and  fortunes  of  princes ;  I  have  been  in  the  fe- 
crets,  and  in  the  councils  of  Kings  ?  Alas  !  you  have  con- 
cluded treaties  and  alliances  with  men,  and  you  have  a 
thoufand  times  violated  the  holy  covenant  you  have  entered 
into  with  God:  You  have  managed  the  interefts  of  prin- 
ces, and  you  have  never  known  how  to  manage  the  inte- 
refts of  your  falvation  :  You  have  entered  into  the  fecrets  of 
kings,  and  you  have  ever  been  ignorant  of  the  fecrets  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  :  Time  loft  for  eternity.  Will  you 
fay  to  him  :  My  whole  life  has  been  only  an  incefTant  toil, 
and  a  painful  and  continued  occupation  ?  alas  !  you  have 
always  toiled,  and  you  have  never  been  able  to  do  any  thing 
to  fave  your  foul :  Time  loft  for  eternity.  Will  you  fay 
to  him  :  I  have  eftablifhed  my  children  in  the  world  :  I 
have  exalted  my  relations  ;  I  have  been  ufeful  to  my  friends  ; 
I  have  augmented  the  patrimony  of  my  anceftors  ?  alas  ! 
you  have  bequeathed  great  eftablifhments  to  your  children, 
and  you  have  not  left  them  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  by  bring- 
ing them  up,  and  eftablifhing  them  in  faith  and  in  piety : 

You 


ON  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  TIME.  IT  $ 

You  have  augmented  the  patrimony  of  your  anceftors,  and 
you  have  difhpated  the  gifts  of  grace,  and  the  patrimony  of 
Jefus  Chrift  :  Time  loft  for  eternity.  Will  you  fay  to  him  : 
I  have  made  the  mod  profound  ftudies  ;  I  have  enriched 
the  public- with  ufeful  and  curious  works  ;  I  have  perfected 
the  fciences  by  new  difcoveries ;  I  improved  my  great  ta- 
lents, and  rendered  them  ufeful  to  mankind  ?  alas  !  The 
great  talent  confided  to  you,  was  that  of  faith  and  grace, 
of  which  you  have  made  no  ufe  :  You  have  rendered  your- 
felf  learned  in  the  fciences  of  men,  and  you  have  always 
been  ignorant  in  the  fcience  of  the  Holy  :  Time  loft  for 
eternity.  In  a  word,  will  you  tell  him  :  I  have  pafted  my 
life  in  fulfilling  the  duties,  and  good  offices  of  my  ftation :  I 
have  gained  friends ;  I  have  rendered  myfelf  ufeful  and 
agreeable  to  my  mafters  ?  alas  !  You  have  had  friends  to  boaft 
of  on  the  earth,  and  you  have  acquired  none  to  yourfelf 
in  heaven:  You  have  made  every  exertion  to  pleafe  men, 
and  you  have  done  nothing  to  pleafe  the  Almighty  :  Time 
loft  for  eternity. 

No,  my  brethren,  what  a  frightful  void,  the  greateft  part 
oi  men,  who  had  governed  ftates  and  empires,  who  appeared 
to  regulate  the  whole  univerfe,  and  had  filled  in  it  the  moft 
diftinguifhed  places ;  who  were  the  fubje&s  of  every  conver- 
fation,andof  the  defires  and  hopes  of  men;  who  engro  fled  al- 
moft  alone,  the  whole  attentions  of  the  earth  ;  what  a  fright- 
ful void,  will  they,  on  the  bed  of  death,  find  their  whole 
life  to  be  ?  Whilft  the  days  of  the  pious  and  ritired  foul, 
regarded  by  them  as  obfcure  and  indolent,  mall  appear 
full,  complete,  occupied,  marked  each  by  fome  victory 
of  faith,  and  worthy  of  being  celebrated  by  the  eternal  fongs. 

Meditate,  my  brethren,  on  thefe  holy  truths  :  Time  is 
fhort ;  it  is  irreparable  :  It  is  the  price  of  your  eternal  feli- 
city : 


Sl4  SERMON     VII. 

city  :  It  is  given  to  you,  only  in  order  to  render  you  worthy 
of  that  felicity :  Calculate,  therefore,  what  portion  of  it 
you  fhould  beftow  on  the  world,  pleafures,  fortune,  and 
on  your  falvation.  My  brethren,  fays  the  Apoftle,  time 
is  fhort :  Let  us  therefore  ufe  the  world,  as  not  abufing  it ; 
let  us  pofTefs  our  riches,  places,  dignities  and  titles,  as 
though  we  pofTefTed  them  not ;  let  us  enjoy  the  favour  of 
our  fuperiors,  and  the  efteem  of  men,  as  though  we  en- 
joyed them  not ;  they  are  only  fhadows,  which  vanifli,  and 
leave  us  for  ever  ;  and  let  us  only  reckon  upon  as  real  in 
our  whole  life,  the  moments  which  we  have  employed  for 
heaven. 


SERMON 


SERMON  VIIL 

TtiE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE. 


;    Matt.  xxv.  46. 

And  theje  Jhall  go  away  into  everlajiing  punijhment :  hut 
the  righteous  into  life  eternal. 

JDehold,  to  what  at  laft  fhall  be  brought  the  defires,  hopes, 
counfels,  and  enterprises  of  men :  Behold,  upon  what  at 
laft  fhall  fplit,  the  vain  reflexions  of  fages  and  freethink- 
ers ;  the  doubts  and  eternal  uncertainties  of  unbelievers ; 
the  vaft  projects  of  conquerors  ;  the  monuments  of  human 
glory ;  the  cares  of  ambition  ;  the  diftin&ion  of  talents ; 
the  difquietudes  of  fortune  ;  the  profperity  of  empires, 
and  all  the  infignificant  revolutions  of  the  earth.  Such 
fhall  be  the  awful  conclufion,  which  will  unravel  the  myf- 
teries  of  Providence,  on  the  diverfe  lots  of  the  children  of 
Adam,  and  juftify  its  conduct  in  the  government  of  the 
univerfe.  This  life  is,  therefore,  but  a  rapid  inftant,  and 
the  commencement  of  an  eternal  futurity.  Torments, 
without  end,  or  the  delights  of  an  immortal  felicity,  (hall 
be  our  lot,  as  well  as  that  of  all  men, 

Neverthelefs,  the  view  of  this  grand  object,  which  for- 
merly had  been  able  to  ftartle  the  ferocity  of  tyrants  ;  to  make 
the  fortitude  of  philofophers ;    to  difturb   the  effeminacy 
and  voluptuoufnefs  of  Caefars;  to  foften  the  moil  barbar- 
ous 


Ql6  SERMON     VIII. 

ous  nations  ;  to  form  fo  many  martyrs ;  to  people  the  deferts, 
and  to  bring  the  whole  univerfe  fubmiffive  to  the  yoke  of 
the  crofs  :  This  image,  fo  terrifying,  is  now  almofl  deftined 
to  alarm  the  timidity  of  merely  the  common  people  :  Thefe 
grand  objecls  are  become  like  vulgar  paintings,  which  we 
dare  no  longer  expofe  to  the  falfe  delicacy  of  the  great,  and 
connoiffeurs  of  the  world ;  and  the  only  fruit  we  gene- 
rally reap  from  this  fort  of  difcourfes,  is  to  make  it  be  in- 
quired, perhaps,  after  quitting  them,  whether  every  thing 
mall  take  place,  as  we  have  faid. 

For,  my  brethren,  we  live  in  times  in  which  the  faith  of 
many  has  been  wrecked ;  in  which  a  wretched  philofophy, 
like  a  mortal  venom,  fpreads  in  fecret,  and  undertakes  to 
juftify  abominations  and  vices,  againft  the  belief  of  future 
punifhment  and  rewards.  This  evil  has  paffed  from  the 
palaces  of  the  great,  even  to  the  people,  and  every  where 
the  piety  of  the  juft  is  infulted  by  the  difcourfes  of  irreli - 
gion,  and  the  maxims  of  freethinking. 

And  certainly,  I  am  not  furprifed  that  diffolute  men 
mould  doubt  of  a  future  flate,  and  endeavour  to  combat, 
or  to  weaken  a  truth,  fo  capable  of  diflurbing  their  crimi- 
nal fenfualities.  It  is  horrible  to  look  forward  to  everlaft- 
ing  mifery.  The  world  has  no  pleafure,  which  can  endure 
a  thought  fo  (hocking ;  confequently,  it  has  always  en- 
deavoured to  efface  it  from  the  heart  and  mind  of  man.  It 
well  knows,  that  the  belief  of  a  future  (late,  is  a  trouble- 
fome  check  on  the  human  paffions,  and  that  it  will  never 
fucceed  in  making  tranquil  and  refolute  libertines,  without 
having  firft  made  unbelievers. 

Let  us  deprive,  then,  the  corruption  of  the  human  heart 
of  fo  wretched  and  weak  a  fupport :  Let  us  prove  to  diffo- 
lute 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  217 

lute  fouls,  that  they  {hall  furvive  their  debaucheries  ;  that 
all  dies  not  with  the  body;  that  this  life  fhall  finifh  their 
crimes,  but  not  their  mifery:  and  more  completely  to 
confound  impiety,  let  us  attack  it  in  the  vain  pretexts  on 
which  it  depends. 

ljily,  who  knows,  fay  the  impious,  that  all  dies     not 
with   us  ?  Is  that  other  life,  of  which  we  are  told,  quite 
certain  ?  Who  has  ever  returned,  to  iniorm  us  of  it  ? 

2d/y,  Is  it  worthy  of  the  majefty  of  God,  fay  they  again, 
to  demean  himfelf,  by  any  attention  to  what  paffes  among 
men  ?  What  matters  it  to  him,  that  worms  of  the  earth, 
like  us,  murder,  deceive,  and  tear  each  other,  live  in  luxury 
or  intemperance  ?  Is  it  not  prefumptuous  in  man,  to  fup- 
pofe,  that  an  Almighty  God  is  occupied  with  him  ? 

Laflly,  What  likelihood,  add  they,  that  God,  having 
madefm^n  fuch/as  he  is,  will  punifh  as  crimes,  inherent 
inclinations  to  pleafure,  which  nature  has  given  us.  Be- 
hold the  philofophy  of  the  voluptuary  :  The  uncertainty 
of  a  future  ftate :  The  majefty  of  God,  which  a  vile  crea- 
ture cannot  offend ;  and  the  weaknefs  of  man,  which,  be- 
ing born  with  him,  he  would  be  unjuft,  of  it,  to  coniiitute 
a  crime. 

Let  us  then  prove,  in  the  firft  place,  againft  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  impious,  that  the  truth  of  a  future  fiate  is  juf- 
tified  by  the  pureft  lights  of  reafon  :  Secondly,  againft  the 
unworthy  idea,  grounded  upon  the  greatnefs  of  God,  that 
this  truth  is  juftified  by  his  wifdom  and  glory  :  Laftly, 
againft  the  pretext,  drawn  from  the  weaknefs  of  man,  that 
it  is  juftified,  even  by  the  teftimony  of  his  own  confcience. 
The  certainty  of  a  future  ftate  :  The  neceUity  of  a  future 

Vol,  I.  Dd  ftate: 


2l8  SERMON     VIII. 

ftate  :    The  inward   acknowledgment    of  a  future  ftate : 
Behold  the  fubjeft,  and  arrangement  of  my  difcourfe. 

O  God !  Attend  not  to  the  infults,  which  the  blafphe- 
mies  of  impiety  offer  to  thy  glory  ;  regard  only,  and  fee, 
of  what  reafon  is  capable,  when  thy  light  is  withdrawn. 
In  the  wickednefs  of  the  human  mind,  behold,  all  the  fe- 
verity  of  thy  juftice,  when  it  abandons  it,  that  the  more  I 
expofe  the  foolifh  blafphemies  of  the  impious  foul,  the 
more  may  he  become  in  thy  fight,  an  objeft  worthy  of 
thy  pity,  and  of  the  treafures  of  thine  infinite  mercy. 

Part  I.  It  furely  is  melancholy  to  have  to  juftify  before 
believers,  the  moft  confolatory  truth  of  faith :  to  come,  to 
prove  to  men,  to  whom  Jefus  Chrift  has  been  declared, 
that  their  being  is  not  a  wild  afiemblage,  and  the  wretched 
offspring  of  chance  :  that  a  wife  and  an  Almighty  artificer, 
has  prefided  at  our  formation  and  birth ;  that  a  fpark  of 
immortality  animates  our  clay  ;  that  a  portion  of  us  fhall 
furvive  ourfelves ;  and  that,  on  quitting  this  earthly  man- 
fion,  our  foul  fhall  return  to  the  bofom  of  God,  from 
whence  it  came,  and  go  to  inhabit  the  eternal  region  of 
the  living,  where  to  each  one  fhall  be  rendered  according^ 
to  his  works. 

It  was  with  this  truth  that  Paul  began  to  announce  faith, 
before  the  Athenian  judges.  We  are  the  immortal  race  of 
God,  faid  he  to  that  aflembly  of  fages,  and  he  has  appoint- 
ed a  day  to  judge  the  univerfe.  By  that,  the  Apoftles 
fpread  the  firft  principles  of  the  doctrine  of  falvation, 
through  infidel  and  corrupted  nations.  But  we,  who 
come  after  the  revolution  of  ages,  when  the  plenitude  of 
nations  has  entered  into  the  Church,  when  the  whole  uni- 
verfe has  profefled  to  believe,  when  all  the  myfteries  have 

been 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  tlO, 

been  cleared  up,  all  the  prophecies  accomplifhed,  Jefus 
Chrift  glorified,  the  path  of  heaven  laid  open ;  we  who  ap- 
pear in  thefe  latter  times,  when  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  io 
much  nearer  than  when  our  fathers  believed  ;  Alas  !  what 
ought  our  miniftry  to  be,  unlefs  to  difpofe  believers  for 
that  grand  hope,  and  to  inftruft  them  to  hold  themfelves  in 
readinefs  to  appear  before  Jefus  Chrift,  who  will  quickly 
come  :  far  from  having  ftill  to  combat  thefe  mocking  and 
foolifh  maxims,  which  the  firft  preaching  of  the  gofpel  had 
effaced  from  the  univerfe. 

The  pretended  uncertainty  of  a  future  ftate,  is,  then,  the 
grand  foundation  of  the  fecurity  of  unbelievers.  We 
know  nothing,  fay  they,  of  that  other  world,  of  which 
you  tell  us  fo  much.  None  of  the  dead  have  ever  return- 
ed to  inform  us ;  perhaps,  there  is  nothing  beyond  the  grave  : 
Let  us  enjoy,  therefore,  the  prefent,  and  leave  to  chance  a 
futurity,  which  either  exifts  not,  or  is  meant  to  be  conceal- 
ed from  our  knowledge. 

Now,  I  fay,  that  this  uncertainty  is  fufpicious  in  the 
principle  which  produces  it,  foolifh  in  the  proofs  on  which 
it  depends,  and  frightful  in  its  confequences.  Refufe  me 
not  here  your  attention. 

Sufpicious  in  the  principle  which  produces  it.  For,  how 
has  the  uncertainty  of  a  future  ftate  been  formed  in  the 
mind  of  the  unbeliever  ?  It  requires  only  to  trace  the  ori- 
gin of  an  opinion,  to  know  whether  the  interefls  of  truth, 
or  the  pafhons,  have  eftablifhed  it  on  earth. 

At  his  birth,  the  impious  man  bore  the  principles  of  na- 
tural religion,  common  to  all  men  :  He  found  written  in 
his  heart,  a  law,  which  forbade  violence,  injuftice,  trea- 
chery, 


220  SERMON  VIII. 

chery,  and  every  a&ion  to  another,  which  he  would  not 
have  done  to  himfelf :  Education  fortified  thefe  fentiments 
of  nature  :  He  was  taught  to  know  a  God  ;  to  love  and  to 
fear  him  :  Virtue  was  fhewn  to  him  in  the  rules  ;  it  was 
rendered  amiable  to  him  in  the  examples  ;  and  though, 
within  himfelf,  he  felt  inclinations,  in  oppofition  to  duty, 
yet,  when  he  yielded  to  their  feduftions,  his  heart  fecretly 
efpoufed  the  caufe  of  virtue  againft  his  own  weaknefs. 

Thus   did  the  impious  man,  at  firft,   live  on  the  earth  : 
With  the  reft  of  mankind,  he  adored  a  Supreme  Being; 
refpe6ted  his  laws  ;  dreaded  his  chaftifements  ;  and  expect- 
ed his  promifes.  Whence  comes  it,   then,  that  he  no  longer 
acknowledges  a  God  ;  that  crimes  appear  to  him  as  human 
policies :  hell,  a  vulgar  prejudice;  a  future  ftate,  a  chime- 
ra ;  and  the  foul,  a  fpark,  which  is  extinguifhed  with  the 
body  ?  By  what  exertion  has  he  attained  to  the  knowledge 
of  things  fo  new,  and  fo  furprifing  ?  By  what  means  has 
he  fucceeded,  to  rid  himfelf  of  thefe  ancient  prejudices,  lo 
jooted  among  men,  fo  confiftent  with  the  feelings  of  his 
heart,  and  the  lights  of  reafon  ?  Has  he  fearched  into,  and 
maturely  examined  them  ?  Has  he  adopted  every  (olid  pre- 
caution, which  an  affair  the  moft  important  of  life,  requires  ? 
Has  he   withdrawn  himfelf  from  the  commerce  of  men, 
in  folitude,  to  allow  leifure  for  refle&ion  and  ftudy  ?  Has 
he  purified  his  heart,  left  the  paflions  may  have  milled 
him  ?  What  anxious  attentions,  and  folicitude,  to  invefti- 
gate  the  truth,  are  required,  to  rejecl  the  firft  feelings  which 
the  foul  has  imbibed  ! 

Liften,  my  brethren,  and  adore  the  juftice  of  God,  on 
thefe  corrupted  hearts,  whom  he  delivers  up  to  the  vanity 
of  their  own  judgment.  In  proportion  as  his  manners  be- 
came diffblute,    the  rules   have  appeared   fufpicious  ;    in 

proportion 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  321 

proportion  as  he  became  debafed,  he  has  endeavoured  to 
perfuade  himfelf,  that  man  is  like  the  beaft.  He  is  become 
impious,  only  by  minting  up  every  avenue  which  might 
lead  him  to  the  truth ;  by  no  longer  regarding  religion  as 
an  important  concern  ;  by  fearching  into  it,  only  for  the 
purpofe  of  dishonouring  it,  by  blafphemies  and  facrilegious- 
"witticifms  ;  he  is  become  impious,  only  by  feekingto  fleel 
himfelf  again  ft  the  cries  of  his  own  confeience,  and  deliver- 
ing himfelf  up  to  the  raoft  infamous  gratifications.  It  is 
by  that  path,  that  he  has  attained  to  the  wonderful  and  fub- 
lime  fcience  of  unbelief  :  It  is  to  thefe  grand  efforts,  that 
he  owes  the  difcovery  of  a  truth,  of  which  the  reft  of 
men  before  him,  had  either  been  ignorant,  or  detefted. 

Behold  the  fource  of  unbelief;  the  corruption  of  the 
heart.  Yes,  my  brethren,  find  me,  if  you  can,  men  wife 
temperate,  pure,  regular,  and  lovers  of  truth,  who  believe 
not  a  God,  who  look  forward  to  no  future  ftate,  who  look 
upon  adulteries,  abominations,  and  incefts,  as  the  inclina- 
tions and  innocent  paftimes  of  nature.  If  the  world  has 
feen  impious  characters,  who  bore  the  femblance  of  wif- 
dom  and  temperance,  it  was  either  that  they  better  conceal- 
ed their  irregularities,  in  order  to  give  more  credit  to  their 
impiety,  or  the  fatiety  of  pleafures,  which  had  brought 
them  to  that  feigned  temperance  :  Debauchery  had  been 
the  original  fource  of  their  irreligion  ;  their  hearts  were 
corrupted,  before  their  faith  was  wrecked;  they  had  an 
intereft  to  believe  that  all  dies  with  the  body,  before  they 
fucceeded  in  perfuading  themfelves  of  it  ;  and  a  long  indul- 
gence of  luxury,  had  fully  difgufted  them  with  guilt,  but 
had  not  rendered  virtue  more  amiable  to  them, 

What  confolation  for  us,  who  believe,  that  we  mu ft  firft 
renounce  probity,  modefty,  manners,  and  all  the  feelings 

of 


*22  SERMON  VIII. 

of  humanity,  before  we  can  renounce  faith,  and  to  be  no 
longer  Chriftian,  mult  firlt  ceafeto  be  man  ! 

Behold  then,  the  uncertainty  of  the  impious,  already 
fufpicious  in  its  principle  ;  but  fecondly,  it  is  foolifh  in 
the  proofs  on  which  it  depends. 

For  furely,  very  decifive  and  convincing  proofs  muftbe 
required  to  make  us  efpoufe  the  caufe  ot  unbelief,  and  to 
render  us  tranquil,  on  what  we  are  told  of  an  eternal  ftate 
to  come.  It  is  not  natural,  that  man  would  hazard  an  in- 
tereft  fo  ferious  as  that  of  eternity,  on  light  and  frivolous 
proofs,  ft  ill  lefs  fo,  that  he  would  thereon  abandon  the  ge- 
neral opinion,  the  belief  of  his  fathers,  the  religion  of  all 
ages,  the  agreement  of  all  nations,  and  the  prejudices  of 
his  education,  had  he  not,  as  it  were,  been  forced  to  it, 
by  the  evidence  of  the  truth.  Unlefs  abfolutely  convin- 
ced that  all  dies  with  the  body,  nothing  can  bear  a  compa- 
lifon  with  the  madnefs  and  folly  of  the  unbeliever.  Now, 
is  he  completely  convinced  ?  What  are  the  grand  reafona 
which  have  determined  him  to  adopt  this  vile  caufe  ?  We 
know  not,  fays  he,  what  happens  in  that  other  world  of 
which  you  tell  us ;  the  good  die  equally  as  the  wicked : 
man  as  the  beaft  ;  and  no  one  returns,  to  fay  which  was  in 
the  error.  Prefs  him  a  little  further,  and  you  will  be  mock- 
ed to  fee  the  weaknefs  of  unbelief;  vague  difcourfes, 
hackneyed  fufpicions,  everlafting  uncertainties,  and  chi>- 
merical  fuppofitions,  on  which  nobody  in  their  fenfes, 
would  wifh  to  rifk  thehappinefs,  or  difquiet  of  a  fingle  day, 
and  upon  which  he,  however,  hazards  an  eternity. 

Behold  the  infurmountable  proofs  which  the  freethinker 
oppofes  to  the  belief  of  the  univerfe  ;  behold  that  evidence, 
which,  in  his  mind,  prevails  over  all  that  is  moft  clear, 

and 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  223 

and  moft  eftablifhed  on  the  earth.  We  know  nothing  of 
what  pafles  in  that  other  world  of  which  you  tell  us. 
O  man  !  open  here  thine  eyes.  A  fingle  doubt  is  fufficient 
to  render  thee  impious,  and  all  the  proofs  of  religion  are 
too  weak  to  make  thee  a  believer.  Thy  mind  hefitates  to 
believe  in  a  future  flate,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  thou  liveft 
as  though  there  were  none.  The  only  foundation  thou 
haft,  for  thine  opinion,  is  thine  uncertainty,  and  thou  re- 
proacheft  to  us,  that  faith  is  a  vulgar  credulity ! 

But  I  afk,  on  which  fide  here  is  credulity  ?  Is  it  on  that 
of  the  freethinker,  or  the  believer  ?  The  latter  believes  in 
a  future  ftate,  on  the  authority  of  the  divine  writings,  that 
is  to  fay,  the  book,  without  contradiction,  which  moft 
deferves  belief ;  on  the  depofition  of  holy  men,  thatis  to  fay, 
juft,  pure,  and  miraculous  characters,  who  have  flied  their 
blood  to  render  glory  to  the  truth,  and  to  that  doclrine,  of 
which  the  converfion  of  the  univerfe  has  rendered  a  teHi- 
mony,  that  to  the  end  of  ages,  fhall  rife  up  againft  the  im- 
pious ;  on  the  accomplishment  of  the  prophecies,  that  is 
to  fay,  the  only  character  of  truth,  which  the  impoftor  can- 
not imitate  ;  on  the  tradition  of  all  ages,  that  is  to  fay,  on 
fa£b,  which,  fince  the  creation  of  the  world,  have  appear- 
ed certain,  to  all  the  greateft  characters,  the  moft  acknow- 
ledged juft  men,  the  wifeft  and  moft  civilized  nations,  the 
univerfe  could  ever  boaft  of ;  in  a  word,  on  proofs  at  leaft 
probable.  The  freethinker  denies  a  futurity  on  a  fimple 
doubt,  a  mere  fufpicion.  Who  knows  it  fays  he;  who 
has  returned  from  it  ?  He  has  no  argument,  either  folid  or 
decifive,  to  overturn  the  truth  of  a  future  ftate.  For  let 
him  avow  it,  and  then  will  we  fubmit.  He  only  miftrufts 
that  there  be  any  thing  after  this  life,  and  upon  that  he  be-, 
lieves  that  all  dies  with  him. 


Now 


224  SERMON     VIII. 

Now  I  demand,  which  here  is  the  credulous  ?  Is  it  he, 
who,  in  fupport  of  his  belief,  has  whatever  is  probable 
among  men,  and  moft  calculated  to  make  impreflion  on 
reafon  ;  or  him  who  is  refolved  to  deny  a  future  ftate,  on 
the  weaknefs  of  a  fimple  doubt  ?  Neverthelefs,  the  free- 
thinker imagines  that  he  exerts  his  reafon  more  than  the 
believer  ;  he  looks  down  upon  us,  as  weak  and  credulous 
men  ;  and  he  confiders  himfeli  as  a  fuperior  genius,  exalt- 
ed above  all  vulgar  prejudices,  and  whom  reafon  alone, 
and  not  the  public  opinion,  determines.  O  God!  How 
terrible  art  thou,  when  thou  deliverer!:  up  a  finner  to  his 
own  infatuation  ;  and  how  well  thou  knoweft  to  draw  glory- 
to  thyfelf,  even  from  the  efforts  which  thine  enemies  make 
to  oppofe  it. 

But  I  go  ft  ill  further.  When,  even  in  the  doubt,  formed 
by  the  unbeliever,  of  a  future  ftate,  the  arguments  mould 
be  equal,  and  the  trifling  uncertainties,  which  render  him  in- 
credulous, mould  balance  the  folid  and  evident  truths  which 
promife  immortality  to  us ;  I  fay,  that  even  in  an  equality 
of  proofs,  he  at  leaft  ought  to  wifh,  fhat  the  opinion  of 
faith,  with  regard  to  the  nature  of  our  foul,  were  true  ;  an 
opinion  which  is  fo  honourable  to  man  ;  which  tells  him, 
that  his  origin  is  celeftial,  and  his  hopes  eternal  ;  he  ought 
to  wifh,  that  the  doclrineof  impiety  were  falfe  ;  a  doctrine 
fo  melancholy,  fo  humiliating  to  man  ;  which  confounds 
him  with  the  beaft  ;  which  makes  him  live  only  for  the 
body  ;  give  him  neither  purpofe,  deftination,  nor  hope  ; 
and  limits  his  lot  to  a  fmall  number  of  rapid,  reftlefs,  and 
forrowful  days,  which  he  paffes  on  the  earth  :  All  things 
equal,  a  reafon  born  with  any  degree  of  elevation,  would 
prefer  being  deceived  by  what  is  honourable  to  itfelf,  rather 
than  adopt  a  fide  fo  difgraceful  to  its  being.  What  a  foul, 
then,  mull  the  unbeliever  have  received  from  nature,  to 

prefer, 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  225 

prefer,  in  fo  great  an  inequality  of  proofs,  the  belief,  that 
he  is  created  only  for  this  earth,  and  favourable  to  regard 
himfelf  as  a  vile  afTemblage  of  dirt,  and  the  companion  of 
the  ox  and  bull  !  What  do  I  fay  ?  What  a  monfter  in  the 
univerfe  muff  be  the  unbeliever,  who  miftrufts  the  general 
belief,  only  becaufe  it  is  too  glorious  for  his  nature ;  and 
believes,  that  the  vanity  of  men  has  alone  introduced  it  on 
the  earth,  and  has  perfuaded  them  that  they  are  immortal. 

But  no,  my  brethren !  Thefe  men  of  flelh  and  blood, 
with  reafon,  reject  the  honour  which  religion  does  to  their 
nature,  and  perfuade  themfelves,  that  their  foul  is  merely 
of  earth,  and  that  all  dies  with  the  body.  Senfual,  diflb- 
lute,  and  effeminate  men,  who  have  no  other  check  than  a 
brutal  inftincl; ;  no  other  rule,  than  the  vehemence  of  their 
defires  ;  no  other  occupation,  than  to  awaken,  by  new  ar- 
tifices, the  cupidity  already  fatiated  ;  men  of  that  character 
can  have  little  difficulty  to  believe,  that  no  principle  of  fpi- 
ritual  life  exifts  within  them  ;  that  the  body  is  their  only  be- 
ing ;  and,  as  they  imitate  the  manners  of  hearts,  they  are 
pardonable  in  attributing  to  themfelves  the  fame  nature. 
But  let  them  not  judge  of  all  men  by  themfelves  ;  there  are 
ftill  on  the  earth,  chafte,  pure,  and  temperate  fouls ;  let 
them  not  afcribe  to  nature,  the  fhameful  tendencies  of  their 
own  mind  ;  let  them  not  degrade  humanity  in  general,  be- 
caufe they  have  unworthily  debafed  themfelves  ;  let  them 
feek  out  among  men,  fuch  as  themfelves ;  and  finding  that 
they  are  almoft  fingle  in  the  univerfe,  they  fhall  then  fee 
that  they  are  rather  monfters,  than  the  ordinary  productions 
of  nature. 

Befides,  not  only  is  the  freethinker  foolifh,  becaufe, 
that  even  in  an  equality  of  proofs,  his  heart  and  glory 
ihould  decide  him  in  favour  of  faith,  but  likewife  his  own 

Vol.  I.  E  e  intereft : 


226'  SERMON     VIII. 

intereft :  For,  as  I  have  already  faid,  What  does  he  rHk  hy 
believing  ?  What  difagreeable  confequence  will  follow  his 
miflake  ?  He  will  live  with  honour,  probity,  and  inno- 
cence ;  he  will  be  mild  affable,  juft,  fincere,  religious,  a 
generous  friend,  a  faithtul  hufband,  and  an  equitable  maf- 
ter;  he  will  moderate  his  paffions,  which  would  otherwife 
have  occafioned  all  the  misfortunes  of  his  life  ;  he  will  abftain 
from  pleafures  and  excefles,  which  would  have  prepared  for 
him  a  painful  and  premature  old  age,  ora  deranged  fortune  ; 
lie  will  enjoy  the  character  of  a  virtuous  man,  and  the 
eftcem  of  mankind  : — Behold  what  he  rifks.  When  all 
mould  even  finifh  with  this  life,  that  furely  is  flill  the  way 
to  pafs  it  with  happinefs  and  tranquillity  ;  fuch  is  the  only 
inconveniency  I  can  find.  If  no  eternal  recompenfe  fhall 
follow,  what  will  he  have  loft  by  expecting  it  ?  He  has  loft 
fome  fenfualand  momentary  gratifications  which  would  foon 
have  either  fatigued  him  by  the  difguft^which  always  follows 
their  enjoyment,  or  tyrannifed  over  him,  by  the  new  dehres 
they  light  up  :  He  has  loft  the  wretched  fatisfa&ion  ot  be- 
ing, for  the  inflant  he  appeared  on  the  earth,  cruel,  un- 
natural, voluptuous,  without  faith,  morals,  or  conftancy, 
perhaps  defpifed  and  difgraced  in  the  midft  of  his  own  peo- 
ple. I  can  fee  no  other  misfortune ;  he  finks  back  to  his 
original  non-exiftence,  and  his  error  has  no  other  confe- 
quence. 

But  if  there  is  a  future  ftate ;  fhould  he  deceive  himfeif 
in  rejecting  faith,  what  does  he  not  rifk  ?  The  lofs  of 
eternal  riches  ;  the  poiTeflion  of  thy  glory,  O  my  God ! 
which  would  for  ever  have  rendered  him  happy.  But  even 
that  is  only  the  commencement  of  his  mif'ery  ;  he  goes  to 
experience  punifhment  without  end  or  meafure,  an  eternity 
ot  horror  and  wrath.  Now,  compare  thefe  two  deflinies  : 
What  party  here  will  the  freethinker  adopt  ?  Will  he  rifk 

the 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  «2J 

the  fhort  duration  of  his  days,  or  a  whole  eternity  ?  Will 
he  hold  by  the  prefent,  which  mud  finith  to-morrow,  and 
in  which  he  even  cannot  be  happy  ?  Will  he  tremble  at  a 
futurity,  which  has  no  other  limits  than  eternity,  and  can 
never  finifli  but  with  God  himfelf !  Where  is  the  prudent 
man,  who,  in  an  uncertainty  even  equal,  durft  here  bal- 
ance ?  And  what  name  fhall  we  give  to  the  unbeliever, 
who,  with  nothing  in  his  favour  but  frivolous  doubts,  while 
on  the  fide  of  truth,  beholding  the  authority,  example, 
prefcription,  proof,  and  voice  of  all  ages,  the  entire  world, 
fingly  adopts  the  wretched  caufe  of  unbelief;  dies  tranquil, 
as  though  he  were  no  longer  to  have  exiftence  ;  leaves  his 
eternal  deftiny  in  the  hands  of  chance,  and  carelefsly  pre- 
pares to  encounter  fo  awful  a  fcene.  O  God  !  Is  this  a 
man  conduced  by  cool  reafon  ;  or,  is  it  a  madman,  who 
looks  forward  to  no  refource  but  defpair  ?  The  uncertainty 
of  the  freethinker  is  therefore  foolifh,  in  the  proofs  on 
which  he  depends. 

But  laftly,  it  is  ftill  more  dreadful  in  its  confequences. 
And  here,  my  brethren,  allow  me  to  lay  afide  the  deep 
reafonings  of  erudition  and  doctrine  ;  I  wifh  to  fpeak  only 
to  the  confeience  of  the  unbeliever,  and  to  confine  my- 
felf  to  the  proofs  which  his  own  feelings  acknowledge. 

Now,  if  all  fhall  finifh  with  us,  if  man  have  nothing  to 
expect  after  this  life,  and  that  here  is  our  country,  our  ori- 
gin, and  the  only  happinefs  we  can  promifeourfelves,  why 
are  we  not  happy  ?  If  only  created  for  the  pleafures  of  the 
fenfes,  why  are  they  unable  to  fatisfy  us  ;  and  why  do  they 
always  leave  a  fund  of  wearinefs  and  forrow  in  the  heart  ? 
If  man  have  nothing  fuperior  to  the  beall,  why,  like  it,  do 
not  his  days  flow  on  without  care,  uneafinefs,  difguff,  or 
forrow,  in  fenfual  and  carnal  enjoyments  ?  If  man  have  no 

other 


228  SERMON    VIII. 

other  felicity  to  expecl:,  than  merely  a  temporal  happinefs, 
why  is  he  unable  to  find  it  on  the  earth  ?  Whence  comes  it, 
that  riches  ferve  only  to  render  him  uneafy  ;  that  honours  fa- 
tigue him  ;  that  pleafures  exhauft  him  ;  that  the  fciences,  far 
from  fatisfying,  confound  and  irritate  his  curiofity  ;  that 
reputation  conftrains  and  embarrafTes  him  ;  that  all  thefe, 
united,  cannot  fill  the  immenfity  of  his  heart,  and  Hill 
leave  him  fomething  to  wifh  for  ?  All  other  beings,  con- 
tented with  their  lot,  appear  happy  in  their  way,  in  the  fitu- 
ation  the  Author  of  Nature  has  placed  them  ;  the  ftars, 
tranquil  in  the  firmament,  quit  not  their  ftation  to  illumi- 
nate another  world ;  the  earth,  regular  in  its  movements, 
ihoots  not  upwards  to  occupy  their  place ;  the  animals  crawl 
in  the  fields,  without  envying  the  lot  of  man,  who  inhab- 
its cities  and  fumptuous  palaces  ;  the  birds  carol  in  the  air, 
without  troubling  themfelves,  whether  there  be  happier 
creatures  in  the  earth  than  themfelves ;  all  are  happy  as  I 
may  fay  ;  every  thing  in  nature  is  in  its  place  :  Man  alone 
is  uneafy  and  difcontented ;  man  alone  is  a  prey  to  his  de- 
fires,  allows  himfelf  to  be  torn  by  fears,  finds  his  punifli- 
ment  in  his  hopes,  and  becomes  gloomy  and  unhappy  in 
the  midft  even  of  his  pleafures  :  Man  alone  can  meet  with 
nothing  here  to  fix  his  heart. 

Whence  comes  this,  O  man  ?  Muft  it  not  be,  that  here 
thou  art  not  in  thy  place  ;  that  thou  art  made  for  heaven ; 
that  thy  heart  is  greater  than  the  world  ;  that  the  earth  is  not 
thy  country;  and  that  whatever  is  not  God,  is  nothing  to 
thee  ?  Anfwer,  if  thou  can,  or  rather  queftion  thy  heart, 
and  thou  wilt  believe. 

2d/y,  If  all  die  with  the  body,  who  has  been  able  to  per- 
fuade  all  men,  of  every  age,  and  of  every  country,  that  their 
foul  wavs  immortal  ?  From  whence  has  this  ftrange  idea  of 

immortality 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  22$ 

immortality  defcended  to  the  human  race  ?  How  could  an 
opinion,  fo  diftant  from  the  nature  of  man,  were  he  born 
only  for  the  functions  of  the  fenfes,  have  pervaded  the 
earth  :  For  if  man,  like  the  beafl,  be  created  only  for  the 
prefent,  nothing  ought  to  be  more  incomprehenfible  to  him, 
than  even  the  idea  of  immortality.  Could  machines  of 
clay,  whofe  only  object  mould  be  a  fenfualhappinefs,  have 
ever  been  able  to  form,  or  to  find  in  themfelves,  an  opi- 
nion fo  exalted,  an  idea  fo  fublime  ?  Neverthelefs,  this  opi- 
nion, fo  extraordinary,  is  become  that  of  all  men ;  this 
opinion,  fo  oppofite  even  to  the  fenfes,  fince  man,  like 
the  beaft,  dies  wholly,  in  our  fight,  is  eftablifhed  on  the 
earth;  this  opinion,  which  ought  not  to  have  even  found 
an  inventor  in  the  univerfe,  has  been  received  with  an 
univerfal  docility  of  belief,  amonglt  all  nations  ;  the  molt 
favage,  as  themoft  cultivated;  the  raoftpolifhed,  as  the  moll 
brutal  ;  the  molt  incredulous,  as  the  molt  fubmiflive  to 
faith. 

For,  go  back  to  the  beginning  of  ages,  examine  all  na- 
tions, read  the  hiftory  of  kingdoms  and  empires,  liften  to 
thofe  who  return  from  the  moll  dillant  ifles  ;  the  immortali- 
ty of  the  foul  has  always  been,  and  Hill  is,  the  belief  of 
every  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  knowledge  of 
one  God  may  have  been  obliterated  ;  his  glory,  power, 
and  immenfity,  may  have  been  effaced,  as  I  may  fay,  from 
the  hearts  and  minds  of  men  ;  obftinate  and  favage  nations 
may  Hill  live  without  worfhip,  religion,  or  God,  in  this 
world  ;  but  they  all  look  forward  to  a  future  Hate ;  nothing 
has  ever  been  able  to  eradicate  the  opinion  of  the  immortality 
of  the  foul ;  they  all  figure  to  themfelves  a  region,  which  our 
fouls  lhall  inhabit  after  death ;  and  in  forgetting  God,  they 
have  never  difcarded  the  idea  of  that  provifion  for  them- 
felves. 

Now, 


&£0  SERMON     VIII. 

Now,  whence  comes  it,  that  men  fo  different  in  their 
difpofitions,  worfhip,  country,  opinions,  interefts,  and 
even  figure,  that  fcarcely  do  they  feem  of  the  fame  fpe- 
cies  with  each  other,  unanimoufly  agree,  however,  on  this 
point,  and  expecl:  immortality  ?  There  is  no  collufion  here ; 
for  how  is  it  poflible  to  affemble  together  men  of  all  coun- 
tries and  ages?  It  is  not  a  prejudice  of  education;  for 
manners,  habits,  and  worfhip,  which  are  generally  the 
confequences  of  prejudices,  are  not  the  fame  among  all 
nations;  the  opinion  of  immortality  is  common  to  all.  It 
is  not  a  feci: ;  for  befides  that  it  is  the  univerfal  religion  of* 
the  world,  that  tenet  has  had  neither  head  nor  proteclor : 
Men  have  adopted  it  themfelves,  or  rather  nature  has  taught 
them  to  know  it,  without  the  affiftance  of  teachers ;  and 
fince  the  beginning  of  things,  it  alone  has  patted  from  fa- 
ther to  fon,  and  has  been  always  received  as  an  indifputa- 
ble  truth.  O  thou !  who  believeft  thyfelf  to  be  only  a 
mafs  of  clay,  quit  the  world,  where  thou  findeft  thyfelf 
fingle  in  belief  ;  go,  and  in  other  regions  fearchfor  men  of 
another  fpecies,  and  fimilar  to  the  beafl ;  or  rather,  be 
flruck  with  horror,  to  find  thyfelf  fingle,  as  it  were,  in  the 
univerfe,  in  revolt  againft  nature,  and  difavowing  thine 
own  heart,  and  acknowledge,  in  an  opinion  common  to  all 
men,  the  general  impreffion  of  the  Author,  who  has  formed 
them  all. 

Laftly,  and  with  this  proof  I  conclude:  The  univerfal 
fellowfhip  of  men,  the  laws  which  unite  one  to  the  other, 
the  mod  facred  and  inviolable  duties  of  civil  life,  are  all 
founded  only  on  the  certainty  of  a  future  flate.  Thus,  if 
all  die  with  the  body,  the  univerfe  mull  adopt  other  laws, 
manners,  and  habits,  and  a  total  change  muff  take  place  in 
every  thing.  If  all  die  with  the  body,  the  maxims  of 
equity,   fricndfhip,  honour  good  faith   and  gratitude,  are 

only 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  131 

only  popular  errors  ;  fince  we  owe  nothing  to  men,  who  are 
nothing  to  us,  to  whom  no  general  bond  of  worfhip  and 
hope  unites  us,  who  will  to-morrow  fink  back  to  their  origi- 
nal non-entity,  and  who  are  already  no  more.  IF  all  die 
with  us,  the  tender  names  of  child,  parent,  father,  friend, 
and  hufband,  are  merely  theatrical  appellations,  and  a 
mockery  ;  fince  friendihip,  even  that  fpringing  from  vir- 
tue, is  no  longer  a  lading  tie  ;  fince  our  fathers,  who  pre- 
ceded us,  are  no  more  ;  fince  our  children  mall  not  fucceed 
us  ;  for  the  non-entity  in  which  we  muft  one  day  be  has  no 
confequence;  fince  the  facred  fociety  of  marriage  is  only 
a  brutal  union,  from  which,  by  a  ftrange  and  fortuitous 
concurrence,  proceed  beings  who  refemble  us,  but  who 
have  nothing  in  common  with  us  but  their  non-entity^ 

What  more  (hall  I  add  ?  If  all  dies  with  us,  domeftic 
annals,  and  the  train  of  our  anceftors,  are  only  a  collection 
of  chimeras ;  fince  we  have  no  forefathers,  and  fhall  have 
no  defcendants,  anxieties  for  a  name  and  poflerity  are 
therefore  ridiculous  ;  the  honours  v/e  render  to  the  mera- 
mory  of  illuflrious  men,  a  childifh  error,  fince  it  is  abfurd 
to  honour  what  has  no  exiftence  ;  the  facred  refpecl  we  pay 
to  the  habitations  of  the  dead,  a  vulgar  illufion  ;  the  afhes 
of  our  fathers  and  friends,  a  vile  dull:  which  we  mould 
caft  to  the  winds,  as  belonging  to  no  perfon  ;  the  laft: 
wifhes  of  the  dying,  fo  facred  amongft  even  the  moil  bar- 
barous nations,  the  laft  found  of  a  machine  which  crum- 
bles in  pieces  ;  and,  to  comprife  all  in  a  word,  if  all  die 
with  us,  the  laws  are  then  a  foolifh  fubje&ion ;  kings  and 
rulers  phantoms,  whom  the  imbecility  of  the  people  has 
exalted  ;  juftice,  and  ufurpation  on  the  liberties  ot  men  ; 
the  law  of  marriage  a  vain  fcruple  ;  modefty,  a  prejudice* 
honour  and  probity,  chimeras ;  incefls,  parricides,  and  the 

bh 


SERMON     VIII. 

blackeft   villainies,  paftimes  of  nature,  and  names  which 
the  policy  of  legiflators  has  invented. 

Behold,  to  what  the  fublime  philofophy  of  the  free- 
thinker amounts ;  behold,  that  force  of  argument,  that 
reafon,  and  that  wifdom,  which  they  are  continually  vaunt- 
ing to  us.  Agree  to  their  maxims,  and  the  entire  uni- 
verfe  finks  back  to  a  frightful  chaos ;  all  is  over- 
turned on  the  earth  ;  all  ideas  of  virtue  and  vice  are  reverf- 
cd,  and  the  moft  inviolable  laws  of  fociety  vanifh ;  the in- 
ftitution  of  morals  perifhes  ;  the  government  of  ftates  and 
empires  is  without  direction  ;  all  harmony  in  the  body- 
politic,  falls.  The  human  fpecies  is  only  an  afTemblage  ot 
fools,  barbarians,  voluptuaries,  madmen,  and  villains,  who 
own  no  law  but  force  ;  no  other  check  than  their  paflions, 
and  the  terror  of  authority  ;  no  other  bond  than  impiety 
and  independence ;  and  no  other  God  than  themfelves. 
Behold  the  world  of  the  freethinker  ;  and  if  this  hideous 
plan  of  a  republic  pleafes  you,  conftitute,  if  you  can,  a 
fociety  of  thefe  monfters.  The  only  thing  which  remains 
for  us  to  fay,  is,  that  you  are  fully  qualified  to  occupy  a 
place  in  it. 

How  worthy  then,  of  man,  to  look  forward  to  an  eter- 
nal deftiny ;  to  regulate  his  manners  by  the  law  ;  and  to 
live,  as  having  one  day  to  render  account  of  his  actions  be- 
fore Him,  who  fhall  weigh  us  all  in  the  balance  ! 

The  uncertainty  of  the  believer  is  then  fufpicious  in  its 
principle,  foolifh  in  its  proofs,  and  horrible  in  its  confe- 
quences.  But  after  having  fhewn  you,  that  nothing  can  be 
more  repugnant  to  found  reafon,  than  the  doubt  which  he 
entertains  of  a  future  flate,  let  us  completely  confound  his 
pretexts,  and  prove,  that  nothing  is  more  oppofite  to  the 

con- 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  233 

idea  of  a  wife  God,  and  to  the  opinion  of  his  own  con- 
science: 

Part  II.  It  is  no  doubt  aftonifhing,  that  the  freethinker 
fhould  feek,  even  in  the  greatnefs  of  God,  a  fhelter  to  his 
crimes;  and  that,  finding  nothing  within  himfelf  to  juftify 
the  horrors  of  his  foul,  he  can  expe6f.  to  find,  in  the  awful 
Majefty  of  the  Supreme  Being,  an  indulgence,  which  he 
cannot  find  even  in  the  corruption  of  his  own  heart. 

Indeed,  fays  the  unbeliever,  Is  it  worthy  the  greatnefs  of 
God,  to  pay  attention  towhatpaffes  among  men;  to  calcu- 
late their  virtues  or  vices ;  to  ftudy  even  their  thoughts, 
and  their  trifling  and  endlefs  defires  ?  Men,  worms  of 
the  earth,  who  fink  into  nothing  before  the  Majefty  of  his 
looks,  are  they  worthy  his  attentive  infpeclion  ?  And  is 
it  not  degrading  a  God,  whom  we  are  taught  to  believe  fo 
great,  to  give  to  him  an  employment,  by  which  even  man 
would  be  difhonoured  ? 

But,  before  I  make  you  fenfibleof  the  whole  abfurdityof 
this  blafphemy,  I  beg  you  will  obferve,  that  it  is  the  free- 
thinker himfelf  who  thus  degrades  the  Majefty  of  God, 
and  brings  him  to  a  level  with  man.  For,  has  the  Al- 
mighty occafion  narrowly  to  obferve  men,  in  order  to 
know  every  thought  and  deed  ?  Are  cares  and  attentions  ne- 
ceffary  for  Him,  to  fee  what  paffes  on  the  earth  ?  Is  it  not 
in  Him,  that  we  are,  that  we  live,  that  we  a£i  ?  And  can 
we  fhun  his  looks,  or  can  he  even  avert  them  from  our 
crimes?  What  folly,  then,  in  the  freethinker,  to  fuppofe, 
that  it  requires  care  and  obfervation  from  the  Divinity,  it" 
he  wifhes  to  remark  what  paffes  on  the  earth  !  His  only  em- 
ployment is  to  know  and  enjoy  himfelf. 

Vol.  I.  Ft"  This 


234  -SERMON   VIII. 

This  reflection  admitted  :  I  anfwer,  in  the  firft  place,;  If 
it  become  the  greatnefs  of  God  to  leave  good  and  evil  with- 
out punifhment  or  reward,  it  is  then  equally  indifferent, 
whether  we  be  juft,  fincere,  friendly  and  charitable,  or 
cruel,  deceitful,  perfidious  and  unnatural  :  God  conse- 
quently does  not  love  virtue,  modefty,  rectitude,  religion, 
more  than  debauchery,  perjury,  impiety,  and  villainy  ; 
fince  the juft  and  the  impious,  the  pure  and  the  impure, 
fhall  experience  the  fame  lot,  and  an  eternal  annihilation 
equally  awaits  them  all  in  the  grave. 

What  do  I  fay  ?  God  even  feems  to  declare  in  favour  of 
the  impious  here  againft  the  juft.  He  exalts  him  like  the 
cedar  of  Lebanon  ;  loads  him  with  riches  and  honours  ; 
gratifies  his  defires,  and  aflifts  his  projects  ;  for  the  impious 
are  in  general  the  prolperous  on  the  earth.  Gn  the  contra- 
ry, He  feems  to  neglect  the  upright  man  ;  He  humbles, 
afflicts,  and  delivers  him  up  to  the  falfity  and  power  of  his 
enemies;  for  difgrace  and  affliction  are  the  common  por- 
tion of  the  good  below.  What  a  monfter  of  a  Supreme 
Being,  if  all  muft  finifh  with  man,  and  if  neither  miferies 
nor  rewards,  except  thofe  in  this  life,  are  to  be  expected  !  Is 
He,  then,  the  protector  of  adulteries,  profanations  and 
the  moft  mocking  crimes,  the  perfecutor  ot  innocence, 
modefty,  piety,  and  all  the  pureft  virtues  ?  Are  his  favours 
the  price  of  guilt,  and  his  punifhments  the  recompenfe  of 
virtue  ?  What  a  God  of  darknefs,  imbecility,  coniufion, 
and  iniquity,  does  the  freethinker  form  to  himfeU ! 

What,  my  brethren  !  It  would  become  His  greatnefs  to 
leave  the  world  he  has  created,  in  a  general  coniufion;  to 
fee  the  wicked  almoft  always  prevail  over  the  upright ;  the 
innocent  crufhed  by  the  ufurper ;  the  father,  the  victim  of 
an  ambitious  and  unnatural  fon  ?  From  the  height  of  hi* 

greatnefs, 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  835 

greatnefs,  God  would  amufe  himfelf  with  thefe  horrible 
tranfa&ions,  without  any  intereft  in  their  commiflion  ?  Be- 
caufe  He  is  great,  he  mould  be  either  weak,  unjuft,  or 
cruel  ?  Becaufe  men  are  infignificant,  they  mould  have  the 
privilege  of  being  diflblute  without  guilt,  or  virtuous  with- 
out merit  ? 

O  God  I  If  fuch  be  the  character  of  thy  Supreme  Be« 
ing  :  If  it  be  Thee  whom  we  adore,  under  fuch  (hocking 
ideas,  I  know  Thee  no  more,  then,  as  my  heavenly  Father, 
my  proteclor,  the  confoler  of  my  fufferings,  the  fupport  of 
my  weaknefs,  and  the  rewarder  of  my  fidelity  ?  Thou  art 
then  only  an  indolent  and  capricious  tyrant,  who  facrificeft 
all  men  to  thy  vain  pride,  and  hall  drawn  them  from  no- 
thing, only  to  ferve  as  the  fport  of  thy  leifure  or  caprice  ! 

For,  laftly,  If  there  be  no  future  (late,  what  defign  wor- 
thy of  his  wifdom,  could  God  have  propofed,  in  creating 
man?  What,  in  forming  them,  He  had  no  other  view, 
than  in  forming  the  beaft?  Man,  that  being  fo  noble,  who 
is  capable  of  fuch  fublime  thoughts,  fuch  vaft  defires,  and 
fuch  grand  fentiments  ;  fufceptible  of  love,  truth,  andjuf- 
tice  :  Man,  of  all  creatures,  alone  worthy  of  a  great  defti- 
nation,  that  of  knowing  and  loving  the  Author  of  his  be- 
ing ;  that  man  fhould  be  made  only  for  the  earth,  to  pals 
a  fmall  portion  of  days,  like  the  beaft,  in  trifling  employ- 
ments, or  fenfual  gratifications  ;  he  fhould  fulfil  his  purpofe, 
by  acting  fo  rifible  and  fo  pitiable  a  part ;  and  afterwards, 
fhould  fink  back  to  non-entity,  without  any  other  ufe  hav- 
ing been  made  of  that  vaft  mind,  and  elevated  heart, 
which  the  Author  of  his  being  had  given  him .?  O  God  ! 
where  would  here  be  thy  wifdom,  to  have  made  fo  grand  a 
Work,  for  the  duration  only  of  a  moment  J  to  have  exhibi- 
ted men  upon  the  earth,  only  as  the  playful  e flays  of  thy 

power  ^ 


236  SERMON   VIII. 

power  ;  or  to  amufe  thy  leifure,  by  a  variety  of  fhews ! 
The  Deity  of  the  freethinker,  is  not  grand,  therefore,  but 
becaufe  he  is  more  unjuft,  capricious,  and  defpicable 
than  men  ?  Purfue  thefe  refle&ions,  and  fupport,  if  you 
can,  all  the  extravagance  of  their  folly. 

How,  worthy,  then,  of  God,  my  brethren,  to  watch 
over  the  univerfe  ;  to  condu&man,  whom  he  has  created,  by 
the  laws  of  juftice,  truth,  charity,  and  innocence;  to  make 
virtue  and  reafon  the  bond  of  union,  and  the  foundation 
of  human  fociety  !  How  worthy  of  God,  to  love  in  his 
creatures,  thofe  virtues  which  render  himfelf  amiable ;  to 
hate  the  vices,  which  disfigure  in  them  his  image  ;  not  to 
confound  for  ever,  the  juft  with  the  impious  ;  to  render 
happy,  with  himfelf,  thofe  fouls,  who  have  lived  only  for 
him  ;  and  to  deliver  up  to  their  own  mifery,  thofe  who  be- 
lieved they  had  found  a  happinefs  independent  of  him  J 

Behold  the  God  of  the  Chriftians  ;  behold,  that  wife,  juft, 
and  Holy  Deity,  whom  we  adore  ;  and  the  advantage  we 
have  over  the  freethinker  is,  that  ours  is  the  God  of  an  in- 
nocent and  pure  heart ;  the  God,  whom  all  creatures  mani- 
ieft  to  us ;  whom  all  ages  have  invoked ;  whom  the  fages, 
even  of  Paganifm,  have  acknowledged  ;  and  of  whom, 
nature  has  deeply  engraven  the  idea  on  the.  very  foundation 
of  our  being ! 

But,  fince  God  is  fo  juft,  ought  he  to  punifh  as  crimes, 
inclinations  for  pleafure,  born  with  us  ;  nay,  which  he 
alone  has  given  us  ?  Laft  blafphemy  of  impiety,  and  laft 
part  of  this  Difcourfe  :  I  fhall  abridge  it,  and  conclude. 

But,  in  the  firft  place,  Be  whom  you  may,  who  hold 
this  abfurd  language,  if  you  pretend  to  juftify  all  your  ac- 
tions, 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  237 

tions,  by  the  inclinations  which  induce  you  to  them ;  if, 
whatever  we  wifh,  become  legitimate ;  if  our  defires 
ought  to  be  the  only  regulation  of  our  duties  ;  on  that 
principle,  you  have  only  to  regard  with  an  envious  eye, 
the  fortune  of  your  brother,  to  acquire  a  right  to  defpoil 
him  of  it ;  his  wife,  with  a  corrupted  heart,  to  be  authorif- 
rd  to  violate  the  fan&ity  of  the  nuptial  bed,  in  oppofition 
to  the  moft  facred  rights  of  fociety  and  nature.  You  have 
only  to  fufpeft,  or  diflike  an  opponent,  to  become  entitled 
to  deftroy  him  ;  to  bear,  with  impatience,  the  authority  of 
a  father,  or  the  feverity  of  a  mafter  ;  to  imbrue  your  hands 
in  their  blood :  In  a  word,  you  have  only  to  bear  within 
you  the  impreflions  of  every  vice,  to  be  permitted  the 
gratification  of  all  ;  and  as  each  finds  the  fatal  feeds  in 
himfelf,  none  would  be  exempted  from  this  horrible  privi- 
lege. It  is  necefiary,  therefore,  that  man  conduct  himfelf 
by  other  laws  than  his  inclinations,  and  another  rule  than 
his  defires. 

Even  the  Pagan  ages  acknowledged  the  neceflity  of  a 
philofophy,  that  is  to  fay,  of  a  light  fuperior  to  the  fenfes, 
which  regulated  their  practice,  and  make  reafon  a  check 
to  the  human  paflions. 

Nature  alone  led  them  to  this  truth ;  and  taught  them, 
that  blind  inftinft  ought  not  to  be  the  fole  guide  of  the  ac- 
tions of  men  :  This  infiin£l,  therefore,  either  is  not  the 
original  inftitution  of  nature,  or  it  mull  be  a  corruption 
of  it ;  fince  all  the  laws,  ever  framed  on  the  earth,  have 
avowedly  been  made  to  refirain  it  ;  that  all  thofe,  who,  in 
every  age,  have  borne  the  character  of  wife  and  virtuous, 
have  rejected  its  impreflions  ;  that,  amongft  all  nations, 
thofe  infamous  individuals,  who  yielded  themfelves  up, 
without  referve  or  fhame,  to  brutal  fenfuality,  have  been 

always 


*38 


SERMON    VIII, 


always  confidered  as  monfters,  and  the  difgrace  of  huma^ 
nity  ;  and  the  maxim  once  eftablifhed,  that  our  inclinations 
and  defires  cannot  be  confidered  as  crimes,  fociety  can  no 
longer  exiil ;  men  muff  feparate  to  be  in  fafety,  muft  bury 
themfelves  in  the  forefts,  and  live  folitary  like  the  beafls. 

Befides,  let  us  render  juftice  to  men,  or  rather  to  the 
Author,  who  has  formed  us.  If  we  find  within  us  inclina- 
tions to  vice  and  voluptuoufnefs,  do  we  not  alfo  find  fenti- 
ments  of  virtue,  modefty,  and  innocence.  If  the  law  of 
the  members  drag  us  towards  the  pleafures  of  the  fenfes,  do 
we  not  alfo  bear,  written  in  our  hearts,  another  law,  which 
recals  us  to  chaftity  and  temperance  ?  Now,  betwixt  thefe 
two  tendencies,  why  does  the  freethinker  decide,  that  the 
inclination  which  impels  us  towards  the  fenfes  is  mofl  con- 
formable to  the  nature  of  man  ?  Is  it,  from  being  the  mofl 
violent  ?  But  its  violence  alone  is  a  proof  of  its  diforder  ; 
and  whatever  comes  from  nature  ought  to  be  more  mode- 
rate. Is  it,  from  being  the  ftrongeft  ?  But  there  are  juft 
and  believing  fouls,  in  whom  it  is  always  fubjecl  to  reafon. 
Is  it,  from  being  more  agreeable  ?  But  a  fure  proof,  that 
this  pleafure  is  not  made  to  render  man  happy,  is,  that  dif- 
guft  immediately  follows  it ;  and  likewifc,  that  to  the  good, 
virtue  has  a  thoufand  times  more  charms  than  vice.  Laftly, 
is  it,  from  being  more  worthy  of  man  ?  You  dare  not  fay 
fo,  fince  it  is  through  it  that  he  confounds  himfe'If  with  the 
beaft.  Why  then  do  you  decide  in  favour  of  the  fenfes, 
againft  reafon  ;  and  infift,  that  it  is  more  conformable  to 
man,  to  live  like  the  beaft,  than  to  be  a  reafonable  being  ? 

Laftly,  were  all  men  corrupted  ;  and,  like  the  animals 
not  gifted  with  reafon,  did  they  blindly  yield  themfelves  up 
to  their  brutal  inftincl,  and  to  the  empire  of  the  fenfes 
and  paflions  ;  you  then,  perhaps,  might  have    reafon  to 

fay, 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  239 

fay,  that  thefe  are  inclinations  inseparable  from  nature, 
and,  in  example,  find  a  fort  of  excufe  for  your  exceffes. 
But  look  around  you  :  Do  you  no  longer  find  any  upright 
characters  on  the  earth  ?  There  is  no  queftion  here  of  thofe 
vain  difcourfes  you  fo  frequently  hold  againft  piety,  and 
of  which  you  feel  yourfelves  the  injuftice  :  Speak  candidly, 
and  render  glory  to  the  truth.  Are  there  no  longer  chafte, 
faithful,  and  righteous  fouls,  who  live  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord,  and  in  theobfervance  of  his  holy  law  ? 

Whence  comes  it,  then,  that  you  have  not  the  fame  em- 
pire over  your  paflions  enjoyed  by  thefe  juft  men  ?  Have 
they  not  inherited  from  Nature  the  fame  inclinations  ?  Do 
the  objects  of  the  paflions  not  awaken,  in  their  hearts,  the 
fame  fenfations  as  in  yours  ?  Do  they  not  bear  within  them 
thefourcesof  the  fame  troubles  ?  What  have  the  juft,  Su- 
perior to  you,  but  that  command  over  themfelves,  and  fideli- 
ty, of  which  you  are  deftitute  ? 

O  man  !  Thou  imputed  to  God  a  weaknefs,  which  is  the 
work  of  thine  own  diforders !  Thou  accufeft  the  Author 
of  Nature  of  the  irregularities  of  thy  will ;  it  is  not  enough 
to  offend  him,  thou  wifheft  to  make  him  refponfible  for  thy 
deeds  ;  and  pretendeft,  that  the  fruit  of  thy  crimes  be- 
comes the  title  of  thine  innocence  !  With  what  chimeras  is 
a  corrupted  heart  not  capable  of  feeding  its  delufion,  in  or- 
der to  juftify  to  itfelf  thefhame  and  infamy  of  its  vices  ! 

God  is  then  juft,  my  brethren,  when  he  punifheth  the 
tranfgreffions  of  his  law.  And  let  not  the  freethinker  here 
fay  to  himfelf,  that  the  recompenfe  of  the  juft  fhall  then  be 
refurre&ion  to  eternal  life;  and  the  punifhment  of  the  Tin- 
ner, the  everiafting  annihilation  of  his  foul  :  for  behold  rtie 
Jaft  refourcc  of  impiety. 

But 


34O  SERMON     VIII. 

But,  what  punifhment  would  it  be  to  the  freethinker  to 
exift  no  more  ?  He  wifhes  that  annihilation  ;  he  looks  for- 
ward to  it,  as  his  fweeteft  hope  :  Amidft  his  pleafures,  he 
lives  tranquil,  only  in  that  expeclation.  What!  Thejuft 
God  would  punifh  a  finner,  by  according  him  a  deftiny  to 
the  fummit  of  his  wifhes.  Ah !  It  is  not  thus  that  God 
punifheth.  For,  what  would  the  freethinker  find  fo  (hock- 
ing in  a  return  to  non-entity  ?  Would  it  be,  in  the  depriva- 
tion of  his  God  ?  But  he  loves  him  not ;  he  knows  him 
not ;  he  defires  no  communication  with  him :  for  his  only 
God  is  himfelf.  Would  it  be  to  exift  no  more  ?  But 
what  could  be  more  defirable  to  a  monfter,  who  knows, 
that,  beyond  the  term  of  his  crimes,  he  cannot  live  but  in 
fufferance,  and  in  the  expiation  of  the  horrors  of  an  infa- 
mous life  ?  Would  it  be,  by  having  for  ever  loft  the  worldly 
pleafures  he  enjoyed,  and  the  different  objects  of  his  paf- 
fions  ?  But  when  he  exifts  no  more,  the  love  of  thefe  mult 
equally  be  extinguished.  A  more  defirable  fate  cannot 
therefore  be  pointed  out  to  the  freethinker.  It  indeed 
would  be  the  happy  conclufion  of  all  bis  excefTes,  horrors, 
and  blafphemies. 

No,  my  brethren  !  The  hopes  of  the  freethinker,  but 
not  his  crimes,  (hall  perifh  :  his  torments  (hall  be  as  eter- 
nal as  his  debaucheries  would  have  been,  had  he  been  maf- 
ter  of  his  own  deftiny.  He  would  willingly  have  eternized 
himfelf  on  the  earth,  in  the  practice  of  every  fenfual  vice. 
Death  has  bounded  his  crimes,  but  has  not  limited  his  crimi- 
nal defires.  The  juft  and  upright  Judge,  who  fathoms  the 
heart,  will  therefore  proportion  the  punifhment  to  the 
guilt. 

What  are  we  to  conclude  from  this  Difcourfe  ?  That  the 
freethinker  is  to  be  pitied,  for  grounding  the  only  confola- 

tion 


THE  CERTAINTY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE.  24 1 

lion  of  his  future  deftiny  on  the  uncertainty  of  the  truths  of 
the  gofpel  :  That  he  is  to  be  pitied,  becaufe  his  only  tran- 
quillity muft  be,  in  living  without  faith,  worfhip,  confi- 
dence, or  God  :  Becaufe,  the  only  hope  he  can  indulge, 
is,  that  the  gofpel  is  a  fable;  the  belief  of  all  ages,  a  child- 
ifli  credulity;  the  univerfal  opinion  of  men,  a  popular  er- 
ror ;  the  firft  principles  of  nature  and  reafon,  preju- 
dices of  education  ;  the  blood  of  fo  many  martyrs,  whom 
the  hopes  of  a  future  ftate  fupported  under  all  their  fuffer- 
ings  and  tortures,  a  mere  tale,  concerted  to  deceive  man- 
kind ;  the  converfion  of  the  world,  a  human  enterprife  ; 
and  the  accomplifhment  of  the  prophecies,  a  mere  ftroke  of 
chance.  In  a  word,  that  every  thing,  the  beft  eftablifhed, 
and  the  moft  confiftent  with  truth  and  reafon  in  the  world, 
muft  all  be  falfe,  to  accomplifh  the  only  happineis  he  can 
promife  himfelf,  and  to  fave  him  from  eternal  mifery. 

O  man  !  I  will  point  out  to  thee  a  much  furer  way  to  render 
thy  felt  tranquil,  and  to  enjoy  the  fweets  of  eternal  peace. 
Dread  that  futurity  thou  forceft  thy  felt  to  difbelieve.  Quef- 
tion  us  no  more,  what  they  do  in  that  other  world,  of 
which  we  tell  thee;  but  afkthyfelf,  without  ceafmg,  what 
thou  art  doing  in  this  ;  quiet  thy  confcience,  by  the  inno- 
cency  of  thy  life,  and  not  by  the  impiety  of  thy  unbelief : 
Give  repofe  to  thy  heart,  by  calling  upon  God,  and  not  by 
doubting  that  he  pays  attention  to  thee  :  The  peace  of  the 
unbeliever  is  defpair.  Seek,  then,  thy  happinefs,  not  by 
freeing  thyfelt  from  the  yoke  of  faith,  but  by  tailing  how 
fweet  and  agreeable  it  is.  Follow  the  maxims  it  prefcribes 
to  thee,  and  thy  reafon  will  no  longer  refufe  fubmiflion  to 
the  myfteries  it  commands  thee  to  believe.  A  future  ftate 
will  ceafe  to  appear  incredible  to  thee  from  the  moment 
thou  ceafeft  to  live  like  thofe  who  centre  all  their  happinefs 
in  the  fleeting  moments  of  this  life.     Then,  far  from  dread- 

Vqi..  I.  G  g  ing 


242  SERMON     VIII. 

ing  a  futurity,  thy  wiflies  will  anticipate  it.  Thou  wilt 
figh  for  the  arrival  of  that  happy  day,  when  the  Son  of 
Man,  the  Father  of  all  future  ages,  (hall  come  to  punifh  the 
unbelieving,  and  to  conduct  thee  to  his  kingdom,  along 
with  thofe  who  have  lived  on  the  earth,  in  the  expectation 
and  hope  of  a  blelTed  immortality 


That  you,  my  brethren,  may  be  partakers  of  this 
nal  felicity,  is  my  fervent  prayer.     Amen. 


eter- 


SERMON 


SERMON  IX. 

ON  DEATH. 


Luke  vii.  12. 

Now  when  he  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  behold 
there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only  Jon  of  his 
mother,  and fJie  was  a  widow. 

VV  AS  death  ever  accompanied  with  more  affe&ing  cir- 
cumftances  ?  It  is  an  only  fon,  fole  fucceflbr  to  the  name, 
titles,  and  fortune  of  his  anceflors,  whom  death  fnatches 
from  an  afflicled  mother  and  widow  ;  he  is  ravifhed  from 
her  in  the  flower  of  age,  and  almolfc  at  his  entry  into 
life  ;  at  a  period  when  happily  pafl  the  dangers  of  infancy, 
and  attained  to  that  firft  degree  of  ftrength  and  reafon,  which 
commences  man,  he  leemed  leaft  expofed  to  the  fhafts  of 
death,  and  at  laft  allowed  maternal  tendernefs  to  breathe 
from  the  fears  which  accompany  the  uncertain  progrefs  of 
education.  The  citizens  run  in  crowds,  to  mingle  their 
tears  with  thofe  of  the  difconfolate  mother  ;  they  aflidu- 
oufly  feek  to  lefTen  her  grief,  by  the  confolation  of  thofe 
vague  and  common-place  difcourfes,  to  which  profound 
forrow  little  attends ;  with  her  they  furround  the  mournful 
bier  ;  and  they  deck  the  obfequies  with  their  mourning  and 
prefence  ;  the  train  of  this  funeral  pomp,  to  them,  is  a 
fhow  ;  but  is  it  an  inftrutlion  ?  They  are  (truck  and  affected, 

but 


244 


SERMON     IX. 


but  are  they  from  it  lefs  attached  to  life  ?  And  will  not  the 
remembrance  of  this  death  perifh,  in  their  minds,  with  the 
noife  and  decorations  of  the  funeral ! 

To  fimilar  examples,  we  every  day  bring  the  fame  dif- 
pofitions.  The  feelings  which  an  unexpected  death  awa- 
kens in  our  hearts,  are  the  feelings  of  a  day,  as  though 
death  itfelf  ought  to  be  the  concern  of  a  day.  We  exhauft 
ourfelves  in  vain  reflections  on  the  inconftancy  of  human 
things;  but  the  object  which  ftruck  us,  once  out  of  fight, 
the  heart  become  tranquil,  finds  itfelf  the  fame.  Our  pro- 
jects, our  cares,  our  attachments  to  the  world,  are  not  lefs 
lively,  than  if  we  were  labouring  for  eternal  ages ;  and  at 
our  departure  from  a  melancholy  fpeQacle,  where  we  have 
fometimes  feen  birth,  youth,  titles,  and  fame,  wither  in 
a  moment,  and  for  ever  buried  in  the  grave,  we  re- 
turn to  the  world  more  occupied  with,  and  more  eager 
than  ever,  after  all  thofe  vain  objects,  of  which  we  fo  lately 
had  feen  with  our  eyes,  and  almofl  felt  with  our  hands, 
the  infignificancy  and  meannefs. 

Let  us  at  prefent  examine  the  reafons  of  fo  deplorable  a 
miftake.  Whence  comes  it,  that  men  reflect  fo  little  upon 
death  ;  and  that  the  thoughts  of  it  make  fuch  tranfitory  im- 
preflions?  It  is  this  :  The  uncertainty  of  death  amufes  us, 
and  removes  from  our  mind  its  remembrance  :  The  certain- 
ty of  death  appals,  and  forces  us  to  turn  our  eyes  from  the 
gloomy  picture :  The  uncertainty  of  it,  lulls  and  encoura- 
ges us ;  whatever  is  awful  and  certain,  with  regard  to  it, 
makes  us  dread  the  thoughts  of  it.  Now,  I  wifh  at  prefent 
to  combat  the  dangerous  fecurity  of  the  firft,  and  the  im- 
proper dread  of  the  others.  Death  is  uncertain  :  You  are 
therefore  imprudent  not  to  be  occupied  with  the  thoughts  of 
it,  but  to  allow  it  to  f  urprife  you  :  Death  is  certain  :  You 

then 


ON  DEATH. 


H5 


then  are  foolifh  to  dread  the  thoughts  of  it,  and  it  ought 
never  to  be  out  of  your  fight  :  think  upon  death,  becaufe 
you  know  not  the  hour  it  will  arrive  :  Think  upon  death, 
becaufe  it  mull  arrive.  This  is  the  fubjeft  of  the  prefent 
difcourfe. 

Part  I. — The  firft  flep  which  man  makes  in  life,  is  like- 
wife  the  firft  towards  the  grave  :  From  the  moment  his  eyes 
open  to  the  light,  the  fentence  of  death  is  pronounced 
againft  him ;  and,  as  though  it  were  a  crime  to  live,  it  is 
fufficient  that  he  lives,  to  make  him  deferving  of  death. 
That  was  not  our  firft  deftiny  :  The  Author  of  our  being 
had  at  firft  animated  our  clay  with  a  breath  of  immortality  : 
He  had  placed  in  us  a  feed  of  life,  which  the  revolution  of 
neither  years  nor  time  could  have  weakened  or  extinguished. 
His  work  was  fo  perfect,  that  it  might  have  defied  the  dura- 
tion of  ages,  while  nothing  external , could  have  diffolved, 
or  even  injured  its  harmony.  Sin  alone  withered  this  di- 
vine feed,  overturned  this  blefled  order,  and  armed  all 
created  beings  againft  man  :  And  Adam  .became  mortal, 
the  moment  he  became  a  finner  :  "  By  fin,"  faid  theApof- 
tle,  "  did  death  enter  into  the  world." 

From  our  birth,  therefore,  we  all  bear  it  within  us.  It 
appears,  that,  in  our  mother's  womb  we  have  fucked  in  a 
flow  poifon,  with  which  we  come  into  the  world  ;  which 
makes  us  languifh  on  this  earth,  fome  a  longer,  others  a 
more  limited  period,  but  which  always  terminates  in  death  : 
We  die  every  day  ;  every  moment  deprives  us  of  a  por- 
tion of  life,  and  advances  us  a  ftep  towards  the  grave  :  The 
body  pines,  health  decays,  and  every  thing  which  fur- 
rounds,  aftifts  to  deftroy  us ;  food  corrupts,  medicines 
weaken  us  ;  the  fpiritual  fire,  which  internally  animates, 
confumes  us  ;  and  our  whole  life  is  only  a  long  and  painful 

ficknefs. 


2^6  SERMON    IX. 

ficknefs.  Now,  in  this  fituation,  what  image  ought  to  be 
fo  familiar  to  man  as  death  ?  A  criminal  condemned  to  die, 
whichever  way  he  caffs  his  eyes,  what  can  he  fee  but  this 
melancholy  objeft  ?  And  does  the  longer  or  fhorter  period 
we  have  to  live  make  a  fufficient  difference,  to  entitle  us 
to  think  ourfelves  immortal  on  this  earth  ? 

It  is  true,  that  the  meafure  of  our  lots  is  not  alike : 
Some,  in  peace,  fee  their  days  grow  upon  them  to  the  moft 
advanced  age,  and  the  inheritors  of  the  bleflings  of  the 
primeval  age,  expire  full  of  years,  in  the  midft  of  a  numer- 
ous pofterity ;  others,  arretted  in  the  middle  of  their  courfe, 
fee,  like  king  Hezekiah,  the  gates  of  the  grave  open  for 
them,  while  yet  in  their  prime  ;  and  like  him,  "  feek  in 
"  vain  for  the  refidue  of  their  years :"  There  are  fome  who 
only  (hew  themfelves  as  it  were  on  the  earth ;  who  finiffo 
their  courfe  with  the  day,  and  who,  like  the  flowers  of  the 
field,  leave  fcarcely  an  interval  betwixt  the  inftant  which 
views  them  in  their  bloom,  and  that  which  fees  them  with- 
ered and  cut  off.  The  fatal  moment  marked  for  each  is  a 
fecret  written  in  the  book  of  life,  which  the  Lamb  of  God 
alone  has  a  right  to  open.  We  all  live,  then,  uncertain  of 
the  duration  of  our  life  ;  and  this  uncertainty,  of  itfelf  fo 
fit  to  render  us  watchful  of  our  lail  hour,  even  lulls  our 
vigilance.  We  never  think  on  death,  becaufe  we  know 
not  exaftly  in  what  age  of  life  to  place  it :  We  even  re- 
gard not  old  age  as  the  term,  at  leaft  fure  and  inevitable  : 
The  doubt  of  ever  reaching  that  period,  which  furcly 
ought  to  fix  and  limit  our  hopes  to  this  fide  of  decrepitude, 
ferves  only  to  make  us  flretch  them  beyond  it.  Unable  to 
fettle  itfelf  on  any  thing  certain,  our  dread  becomes  a  vague 
and  confufed  feeling,  which  fixes  on  nothing ;  in  fo  much 
that  the  uncertainty,  which  ought  only  to  dwell  on  the 

length 


ON  DEATH. 


247 


length  or  brevity  of  it,  renders  us  tranquil  on  ourexiftence 
itfelf. 

Now,  I  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  that  of  all  difpofitions, 
this  is  the  rafhefl.  and  mod  imprudent :  I  appeal  to  youfelves 
for  this  truth.  Is  an  evil  which  may  take  place  every  day, 
to  be  more  difregarded,  than  another  which  threatens  you 
only  at  the  expiration  of  a  number  of  years  ?  What !  be- 
caufe  your  foul  may  every  moment  be  recalled,  you  would 
tranquilly  live  as  though  you  were  never  to  lofe  it  ?  Be- 
caufe  the  danger  is  always  prefent,  circumfpe£tion  becomes 
lefs  neceffary  ?  But  in  what  other  fituation  or  circumftance 
of  life,  except  that  of  our  eternal  falvation,  does  uncer- 
tainty become  an  excufe  for  fecurity  and  neglect  ?  Does 
the  conduct  of  that  fcrvant  in  the  gofpel,  who  under  pre- 
tence that  his  matter  delayed  to  return,  and  that  he  knew 
not  the  hour  when  he  mould  arrive,  applied  his  property  to 
his  own  purpofes,  as  if  he  never  were  to  render  account  of 
it,  appear  to  you  a  prudent  difcharge  of  his  duty  ?  What 
other  motives  has  Jefus  Chrift  made  ufe  of,  to  exhort  us 
to  inceflant  watching  ?  and,  What  in  religion  is  more 
proper  to  awake  our  vigilance,  than  the  uncertainty  of  this 
laft  day  ? 

Ah,  my  brethren !  were  the  hour  unalterably  marked  for 
each  of  us  ;  were  the  kingdom  of  God,  like  the  ftars,  to  come 
at  a  known  and  fixed  revolution  ;  at  our  birth,  were  our  por- 
tions written  on  our  foreheads ;  the  number  of  our  years, 
and  the  fatal  day  which  fhall  terminate  them  ;  that  fixed  and 
certain  object,  however  diftant,  would  incefTantly  employ 
our  thoughts,  would  agitate,  and  deprive  us  of  every  tran- 
quil moment ;  we  would  always  regard  the  interval  before 
as  too  fhort ;  that  object,  in  fpite  of  us,  always  prefent  to 
our  mind,  would  difguft  us  with  every  thing;  would  ren- 
der 


248  SERMON     IX* 

der  every  pleafure  infipid,  fortune  indifferent,  and  the 
whole  world  tirefome  and  a  burden  :  That  terrible  moment, 
which  we  would  no  more  lofe  fight  of,  would  reprefs  our 
pafhons,  extinguifh  our  animofities,  difarm  revenge,  calm 
the  revolts  of  the  flefh,  and  mingle  itfelf  in  all  our  fchemes  ;. 
and  our  lite,  thus  limited  to  a  certain  number  of  days,  fix- 
ed and  known,  would  be  only  a  preparation  for  that  laft  mo- 
ment. Are  we  in  our  fenfes,  my  brethren  ?  Death  feen 
at  a  diftance,  at  a  fure  and  fixed  point,  would  fill  us  with 
dread,  detach  us  from  the  world  and  ourfelves,  call  us  to 
God,  and  incefTantly  occupy  our  thoughts  ;  and  this  fame 
death,  uncertain,  which  may  happen  every  day,  every  in- 
flant  ;  this  fame  death,  which  muft  furprife  us  when  we 
Jeaft  expeft  it ;  which  is  perhaps  at  the  gate,  engages  not 
our  attention,  and  leaves  us  tranquil :  What  do  I  fay  ! 
leaves  us  all  our  paflions,  our  criminal  attachments,  our 
ardour  for  the  world,  pleafures,  and  fortune  ;  and  becaufe 
it  is  not  certain  that  we  fhall  die  to  day,  we  live  as  if  we 
were  to  live  for  ever. 

Obferve,  my  brethren,  that  this  uncertainty  is  in  effeft 
accompanied  with  all  the  circumftances  mod  capable  of  a- 
larming,  or  at  leaf!  of  engaging  the  attention  of  a  prudent 
man,  who  makes  anv  ufe  of  his  reafon.  In  the  firft  place, 
the  furprife  of  that  lail  day  you  have  to  dread,  is  not  one  of 
thofe  rare  and  lingular  accidents,  which  befal  only  fome 
unfortunate  wretches,  and  which  it  is  more  prudent  to  dif- 
regard  than  to  forefee.  In  order  to  be  furprifed  by  death, 
the  queilion  at  prefent  is  not,  that  the  thunder  mould  fall 
upon  your  heads,  that  you  mould  be  buried  under  the  ruins 
of  your  palaces,  that  you  mould  be  fwallowed  up  by  the 
waves,  nor  many  other  accidents,  whofe  fingularity  renders 
them  more  terrible,  though  lefs  dreaded;  it  is  a  common 
evil ;  not  a  day  paiTes  without  furnifhing  fome  examples ; 

almoft 


ON   DEATH.  249 

almoft  all  men  are  furprifed  by  death  ;  all  fee  it  approach, 
while  they  believe  it  yet  at  a  diftance  ;  all  fay  to  themfelves, 
like  the  foolifh  man  in  the  gofpel,  "  Why  mould  I  be 
"  afraid  ;  I  have  many  years  yet  to  come  ?"  In  this  manner 
have  you  feen  depart,  your  relations,  friends,  and  almoft 
all  thofe  whofe  death  you  have  witnefTed  ;  every  instance 
furprifed  you ;  you  expected  it  not  fo  foon  ;  and  you  en- 
deavoured to  account  for  it  by  human  reafons  ;  fuch  as  the 
imprudence  of  the  patient,  or  the  want  of  proper  advice 
and  medicines  ;  but  the  only  and  true  reafon  is,  that  the 
hour  of  the  Lord  always  takes  us  by  furprife. 

The  earth  is  like  a  vaft  field  of  battle,  where  we  are  eve- 
ry day  engaged  with  the  enemy  ;  you  have  happily  efcaped 
to-day  ;  but  you  have  witneffed  the  fall  of  many,  who 
like  you,  expected  to  furvive;  to-morrow  you  again  muft 
enter  the  lifts  ;  and  who  has  told  you  that  fortune,  fo  ca- 
pricious with  regard  to  others,  to  you  alone  will  continue 
favourable  ?  And  fince  you  at  laft  mult  perilh  there,  are 
you  prudent  in  building  a  fixed  and  permanent  habitation, 
on  the  very  fpot,  perhaps,  intended  for  your  tomb  ?  Place 
yourfelves  in  any  poflible  fituation,  there  is  not  a  moment 
but  may  be  your  laft,  and  has  actually  been  fo  to  fome 
of  your  brethren;  no  brilliant  aftion,  but  may  terminate 
in  the  eternal  fhades  of  the  grave  ;  and  Herod  is  ftruck  in 
the  midft  of  the  fervile  and  foolifh  applaufes  of  his  people  : 
No  day  fet  apart  for  the  folemn  difplay  of  worldly  magnifi- 
cence, but  may  conclude  with  your  funeral  pomp  ;  and 
Jezebel  was  precipitated  the  very  day  fhe  had  chofen  to 
fnowherfelf  in  her  greateft  pride  and  oileitfatibn,  from  the 
windows  of  her  palace  :  No  feftival,  but  may  be  the  feaft 
of  death  ;  and  Belfhazar  expired  in  the  midft  of  a  fumptu- 
ous  banquet.  No  repofe,  but  may  conduft  you  to  an 
everiafting  ileep  :  and  Holofernes,  in  the  heart  of  his  army, 
Vol-  L  H  h  and 


2^0  SERMON     IX. 

and  conqueror  of  fo  many  kingdoms  and  provinces,  fell 
under  the  ftroke  of  a  fimple  Jewifh  woman  :  No  difeafe, 
but  may  be  the  fatal  term  ot  your  courfe ;  and  every  day 
yoii  fee  the  (lighteft  complaints  decieve  the  opinions  of  the 
moft  fkilful,  and  the  expe&ations  of  the  patient,  and  al- 
mofl  in  an  inftant  take  the  turn  ot  death  :  In  a  word,  fi- 
gure yourfelves  in  any  poflible  ftage  or  ftation  of  life,  and 
with  difficulty  can  you  number  thofe  who  have  been  fur- 
prifed  in  a  fimilar  fituation  ;  and  what  right  have  you  to 
expeft,  that  you  alone  fhall  be  exempted  from  a  lot  com- 
mon to  all  ?  You  allow,  you  confefs  this  :  but  thefe  con- 
feffions  are  merely  words  of  courfe,  and  are  never  follow- 
ed by  a  Tingle  precaution,  to  fecure  you  from  the  danger. 

2dly,  Did  this  uncertainty  turn  only  on  the  hour,  the 
place,  or  the  manner  of  your  death,  it  would  appear  lefs 
fhocking  :  for,  after  all,  fays  a  Holy  Father,  what  matters 
it  to  a  Chriftian,  whether  he  fhall  expire  in  the  midft  of  his 
connections,  or  in  the  country  of  Grangers ;  in  the  bed  of 
forrow,  or  the  abyfs  of  the  waves  ;  provided  he  dies  in 
piety  and  righteoufnefs  ?  But  what  renders  this  terrible,  is, 
the  uncertainty,  whether  you  fhall  die  in  the  Lord,  or  in 
fin  ;  that  you  fhall  know  not  what  will  be  your  lot  in  that 
other  region,  where  conditions  change  no  more;  into 
whofe  hands,  at  its  departure  from  the  body,  your  foul 
trembling,  a  flranger  and  alone,  fhall  fall :  whether  it  fhall 
be  furrounded  with  light,  and  carried  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne  on  the  wings  of  blefTed  and  happy  fpirits,  or  enve- 
loped in  darknefs,  and  caft  headlong  into  the  gulf :  You 
hang  betwixt  thefe  two  eternities  :  You  know  not  to 
which  you  fhall  be  attached  :  Death  alone  will  difclofe  the 
fecret  ;  and  in  this  uncertainty,  you  remain  tranquil,  and 
indolently  wait  its  approach,  as  though  it  were  a  matter  of 
no  importance  to  you,  nor  to  determine  your  eternal  hap- 

pinefs 


ON   DEATH.  251 

pinefs  or  mifery  ?  Ah  !  my  brethren,  were  it  even  true, 
that  all  ends  with  us,  the  impious  man  would  flill  be  foolifh 
in  faying,  "  Let  us  think  not  on  death  ;  let  us  eat  and 
"  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die  :."  The  more  he  found  life 
agreeable,  the  more  reafon  would  he  have  to  be  afraid  of 
death,  which  to  him  would  however  be  only  a  cefiation  of 
exigence.  But  we,  to  whom  faith  opens  profpefts  of 
punifhment,  or  eternal  rewards,  beyond  the  grave ;  we 
who  muft  reach  the  gates  of  death,  ftill  uncertain  of  this 
dreadful  alternative,  is  there  not  a  folly,  What  do  I  fay  ? 
a  madnefs  (not  to  be  fure  in  profeffingthe  fentiments  of  the 
impious,  *'  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die)," 
in  living  as  though  we  thought  like  him  !  Is  it  poffible  we 
can  remain  a  fingle  inflant  unoccupied  with  that  decifive 
moment,  and  without  allaying,  by  the  precautions  of  faith, 
that  trouble  and  dread  into  which  this  uncertainty  muft 
caff  a  foul,  who  has  not  yet  renounced  his  eternal  hopes  ? 

3^/y,  In  all  other  uncertainties,  the  number  of  thofe 
who  fhare  the  fame  danger,  may  infpire  us  with  confidence  ; 
or  refources,  with  which  we  flatter  ourfelves,  may  leave  us 
more  tranquil  ;  or,  even  at  the  worif,  the  difappointment 
becomes  a  leffon,  which  teaches  us,  to  our  coft,  to  be  more 
guarded  in  future  :  But,  in  the  dreadful  uncertainty  in 
queftion,  the  number  of  thofe  who  run  the  fame  rifk  can 
diminifh  nothing  from  our  danger  ;  all  the  refources  with 
which  we  may  flatter  ourfelves  on  the  bed  of  death,  are,  in 
general,  merely  illufive  ;  and  religion  itfelf,  which  furnifhes 
them,  dare  ground  but  fmall  hopes  on  them  :  In  a  word, 
the  miftake  is  irremediable;  we  die  only  once,  and  our 
paft  folly  can  no  more  ferve  as  a  leffon  to  guard  us  from 
future  error.  Our  misfortune,  indeed,  opens  our  eyes ; 
but  thefe  new  lights,  which  difljpate  our  blindnefs,  become 
ufelefs,  by  the  immutability  of  our  ftate,  and  are  rather  a 

crueL 


2  £2  SERMON     IX. 

cruel  knowledge  of  our  mifery,  which  prepares  to  tear  us 
with  eternal  remorfe,  and  to  occafion  the  moft  grievous 
portion  of  our  punifhment,  than  wife  reflections  which 
may  lead  us  to  repentance. 

Upon  what,  then,  can  you  jullify  this  profound  and  in- 
comprehenfihle  neglect  of  your  laft  day,  in  which  you  live  ? 
On  youth,  which  may  feem  to  promife  you  many  years 
yet  to  come  ? 

Youth  \  But  the  fan  of  the  widow  of  Nairn  was  young  : 
.Does  death  rcfpecl:  ages  or  rank  ?  Youth  !  But  that  is  ex- 
actly what  makes  me  tremble  for  you  ;  licentious  manners, 
pleafures  to  excefs,  extravagant  paffions,  ambitious  de- 
fires,  the  dangers  of  war,  thirft  for  renown,  and  the  fal- 
lies  of  revenge  :  Is  it  not  during  the  purfuit,  or  gratifica- 
tion of  fome  one  of  thefe  paflions,  that  the  majority  of 
men  finifh  their  career  ?  Adonias,  hut  for  his  debaucheries, 
might  have  lived  to  a  good  old  age  ;  Abfalom,  but  for  his 
ambition  ;  the  king  of  Sachem's  fon,  but  for  his  love  of 
Dinah  ;  Jonathan,  had  glory  not  dug  a  grave  for  him  ir> 
the  mountains  of  Gilboa.  Youth  !  alas  !  it  is  the  feafon 
of  dangers,  and  the  rock  upon  which  life  generally  fplits. 

Once  more,  then,  Upon  what  do  you  found  your  hopes  ? 
On  the  flrength  of  your  conflitution  ?  But  what  is  the  bell 
efiablifhed  health  ?  A  fpark  which  a  breath  mail  extinguifh  : 
A  Tingle  day's  ficknefs  is  fufFicient  to  lay  low  the  moft  ro- 
buft .  I  examine  not  after  this,  whether  you  do  not  even 
flatter  yourfelves  on  this  point :  If  a  body,  exhaufled  by 
the  irregularities  of  youth,  do  not  announce  to  your  own 
minds  the  fentence  of  death  ;  if  habitual  infirmities  do  not 
lay  open  before  you  the  gates  of  the  grave;  if  difagreea- 
¥le  indications  do  not  menace  you  with  fome  fudden  acci- 
dent, 


ON  DEATH.  253 

dent.  I  wifii  you  to  lengthen  out  your  days  even  beyond 
your  hopes.  Alas  !  my  brethren,  can  any  period  appear 
long  which  muft  at  laft  come  to  an  end  ?  Look  back,  and 
fee  where  now  are  your  youthful  years  ?  What  trace  ol  folid 
joy  do  they  leave  in  your  remembrance  ?  Not  more  than  a 
vifion  of  the  night ;  you  dream  that  you  have  lived,  and 
behold  all  that  is  left  to  you  of  it :  All  that  interval,  elap- 
fed  from  your  birth  to  the  prefent  day,  is  like  a  rapid  flafh, 
whofe  paffage  the  eye,  far  from  dwelling  on,  can  with  dif- 
ficulty fee  :  Had  you  begun  to  live,  even  with  the  world 
itfelf,  thepaft  would  now  appear  to  you  neither  longer  nor 
more  real ;  all  the  ages,  elapfed  down  to  the  prefent  day, 
you  would  look  upon  as  fugitive  i n Hants ;  all  the  nations 
which  have  appeared  and  dilappeared  on  the  earth  ;  all  the 
revolutions  of  empires  and  kingdoms  ;  all  thofe  grand  events 
which  embellifhour  hiftories,  to  you  Would  be  only  the  dif- 
ferent fcenes  of  a  mow,  which  you  had  feen  concluded  in 
a  day.  Recollect  the  victories,  the  captured  cities,  the 
glorious  treaties,  the  magnificence,  the  fplendid  events  of 
the  firft  years  of  this  reign  ;  moftof  you  have  not  only  wit- 
nefled,  but  have  fhared  in  their  danger  and  glory  ;  our  an- 
nals will  convey  them  down  to  our  latefl  pofterity  ;  but  to 
you,  they  are  already  but  a  dream;  but  a  momentary  flafh 
which  is  extinguished,  and  which  every  day  effaces  more  and 
more  from  your  remembrance.  What,  then,  is  this  fmall 
portion  you  have  ftill  to  accomplifh  ?  Can  you  believe  that 
the  days  to  come  have  more  reality  than  thofe  already  pad  ? 
Years  appear  long,  while  yet  at  adiflance;  arrived,  they 
vanifh,  they  flip  from  us  in  an  inftant ;  and  fcarcely  fhall 
we  have  looked  around  us,  when,  as  if  by  enchantment, 
we  fhall  find  ourfelves  at  the  iatal  term,  which  fiil!  appear- 
ed fo  diftant,  that  we  rafnly  concluded  it  would  never  ar- 
rive. View  the  world,  fuch  as  you  have  ^een  it  in  your 
youth! ul  days,  and  fuch  as  you  now  fee  it  :  New  perfona- 

ges 


254  SERMON    IX. 

ges  have  mounted  the  flage ;  the  grand  parts  are  filled  by 
newa&ors;  they  are  new  events,  new  intrigues,  new  paf- 
fions,  new  heroes  in  virtue  as  well  as  in  vice,  which  engage 
the  praifes,  derifions,  and  cenfures  of  the  public  ;  a  new 
world,  without  your  having  perceived  it,  hasinfenfibly  rifen 
on  the  wrecks  of  the  firft ;  every  thing  pafTes  with  and  like 
you  ;  a  velocity  which  nothing  can  flop,  drags  all  into  the 
gulf  of  eternity  :  Yefterday  our  ancestors  cleared  the  way 
for  us ;  and  to-morrow,  we  mail  do  the  fame  for  thofe  who 
are  to  follow.  Ages  fucceed  each  other  ;  the  appearance  of 
the  world  incefTantly  changes  ;  the  dead  and  the  living  con- 
tinually replace  and  fucceed  each  other  :  Nothing  ftands  flill  ; 
all  changes,  all  waftes  away,  all  has  an  end  :  God  alone  re- 
mained* always  the  fame  :  The  torrent  of  ages,  which 
fweepsaway  all  men,  flows  before  his  eyes  ;  and,  with  in- 
dignation, he  fees  weak  mortals  carried  down  by  that  rapid 
courfe,  infult  him  while  pafling ;  wifh,  of  that  tranfitory 
inftant,  to  conflitute  all  their  happinefs  ;  and  at  their  de- 
parture from  it,  fall  into  the  hands  of  bis  vengeance  and 
wrath.  Where,  fayg  the  Apoftle,  amongft  us,  are  now 
the  wife  ?  And  a  man,  were  he  even  capable  of  governing 
the  world,  can  he  merit  that  name  from  the  moment  that  he 
forgets  what  he  is,  and  what  he  muft  be  ? 

Neverthelefs,  my  brethren,  what  impreflion  on  us  does 
the  inftability  of  every  thing  worldly  make  ?  The  death  of 
our  relations,  friends,  competitors,  and  mailers  ?  We  never 
think  that  we  are  immediately  to  follow  them ;  we  think 
only  of  decking  ourfelves  out  in  their  fpoils ;  we  think  not 
on  the  little  time  they  had  enjoyed  them,  but  only  on  the 
pleafure  they  muft  have  had  in  their  pofTeflion  :  We  haften 
to  profit  ourfelves  from  the  wreck  of  each  other:  We  are 
like  thofe  foolifh  foldiers,  who,  in  the  heat  of  battle,  when 
their  companions  are  every  moment  falling  around  them, 

eagerly 


ON  DEATH.  855 

eagerly  load  themfelves  with  their  clothes ;  and  fcarcely 
are  they  put  on,  when  a  mortal  blow  at  once  deprives  them 
of  their  abfurd  decorations  and  life.  In  this  manner  the 
fon  decks  himfelf  with  the  fpoils  of  the  father ;  clofes  his 
eyes  ;  fucceeds  to  his  rank,  fortune,  and  dignities ;  con- 
duels  the  pomp  of  his  funeral,  and  leaves  it,  more  occupi- 
ed with,  more  affe£ted  by  the  new  titles  with  which  he  is 
now  inverted,  than  inftructed  by  the  laft  advices  of  a  dying 
parent ;  than  afflicled  for  his  lofs,  or  even  undeceived  with 
regard  to  the  things  of  the  earth,  by  a  fight  which  places 
before  his  eyes  their  infignificancy,  and  announces  to  him 
the  fame  deftiny  foon.  The  death  of  our  companions  is 
not  a  moreufeful  leffon  to  us  :  Such  a  perfon  leaves  vacant 
an  office,  which  we  haften  to  obtain  ;  another  promotes  us 
a  ftep  in  the  fervice  ;  claims  expire  with  this  one,  which 
might  have  greatly  embarraffed  us  ;  that  one  now  leaves  us 
the  indifputed  favourite  of  our  fovereign  ;  another  brings 
us  a  ftep  nearer  to  a  certain  dignity,  and  opens  the  road  to  a 
rank  which  his  death  alone  could  render  attainable  ;  and  on 
thefe  occafions,  our  fpirits  are  invigorated ;  we  adopt  new 
meafures,  and  form  new  projects  :  and,  far  from  our  eyes 
being  opened,  by  the  examples  of  thofe  whom  we  fee  dif- 
appear,  there  iffue,  even  from  their  afhes,  fatal  fparks,  which 
inflame  all  our  defires  and  attachments  to  the  world  ;  and 
death  that  gloomy  piclure  of  our  mifery,  reanimates  more 
paflions  among  men,  than  even  all  the  illufions  of  life. 
What  then  can  detach  us  from  this  wretched  world,  fince 
death  itfelf  feemsonly  to  knit  more  ftrongly  the  bonds,  and 
Itrengthen  us  in  the  error  which  bind  us  to  it  ? 

Here,  my  brethren,  I  require  nothing  from  you  but  rea- 
fon.  What  are  the  natural  confequences  which  good  fenfe 
alone  ought  to  draw  from  the  uncertainty  of  death  ? 


•A 


2^6  SERMON     IX. 

ljl,  The  hour  of  death  is  uncertain:  Every  year,  eve- 
ry day,  every  moment,  may  be  the  laft  oi  our  life  ;  it 
is  abfurd,  then,  by  attaching  ourfelves  to  what  mult  pafs 
away  in  an  inftant,  to  facrifice  the  only  riches  which  are 
eternal ;  every  thing  you  do  for  the  earth  ought  therefore  to 
appear  as  loft,  fince  you  have  no  intereit  there  ;  you  can 
depend  on  nothing  there,  and  can  carry  nothing  from  it ; 
but  what  you  fhall  have  done  for  heaven  :  The  kingdoms  of 
the  earth,  and  all  their  glory,  ought  not  then  for  a  moment 
to  balance  the  interefts  of  your  eternal  welfare,  fince  the 
greateft  fortune  cannot  allure  you  of  a  day  more  than  the  moft 
humble  ;  and  fince  the  only  confequence  which  can  accrue 
from  it,  is  a  more  deep  and  bitter  forrow  on  the  bed  of 
death,  when  you  fhall  be  obliged  for  ever  to  part  from 
them  ;  every  care,  every  movement,  every,  defire,  ought 
therefore  to  centre  in  eftablifhing  for  yourfelves  a  perma- 
nent and  unchangeable  fortune,  an  eternal  happinefs,  which 
fadeth  not  away. 

zdly,  The  hour  ot  your  death  is  uncertain  :  You  ought 
then  to  expe£f.  it  every  day  ;  never  to  permit  yourfelves  an 
aclion,  in  which  you  would  with  not  to  be  furprifed ;  to 
confider  all  your  proceedings,  as  thofe  of  a  dying  man, 
who  every  moment  expecls  his  foul  to  be  recalled  ;  to  act 
in  every  thing,  as  though  you  were  that  inftant  to  render 
account  of  your  conducl ;  and,  fince  you  cannot  anfvver 
for  the  time  which  is  to  come,  in  fuch  a  manner  to  resu- 
late  the  prefent,  that  you  may  have  no  occafion  for  the  fu- 
ture to  repair  its  errors. 

Laftly,  The  hour  of  your  death  is  uncertain  :  delay  not 
then,  your  repentance  ;  time  prefles,  haften  then  your 
converfion  to  the  Lord  :  You  cannot  allure  yourfelves  ot 
a  day,  and  you  defer  it  to  a  diflant  and  uncertain  period  to 

come. 


ON  DEATH. 


*57 


come.  Were  you  unfortunately  to  fwallow  a  mortal  poi- 
fon,  would  you  put  off  to  another  day,  the  trial  of  the  only 
antidote  which  might  fave  your  life  ?  Would  the  agent  of 
death,  which  you  carried  in  your  bowels,  allow  of  delays, 
and  neglecl  ?  Such  is  your  (late.  If  you  be  wife,  have 
inftant  recourfe  to  your  precautions  :  You  carry  death  in 
your  foul,  fince  in  it  you  carry  fin ;  haften  to  apply  the 
remedy,  fince  every  moment  is  precious  to  him,  who  can- 
not depend  on  one  ;  the  poifonous  beverage  which  in  feels 
your  foul,  cannot  long  be  trifled  with  ;  the  goodnefs  of  God 
flill  holds  out  to  you  a  cure ;  haften,  once  more  I  fay,  to 
fecure  it,  while  it  is  not  yet  too  late.  Should  entreaties  be 
neceffary  to  determine  your  compliance ;  ought  not  the 
profpecT:  of  relief  to  be  fufficient  ?  Is  it  necefTary  to  ex- 
hort an  unfortunate  wretch,  juft  finking  in  the  waves,  to 
exert  his  endeavours  to  fave  himfelf?  Ought  you,  in  this 
matter,  to  have  occafion  for  our  mini  ft  rv  ?  Your  laft  hour 
approaches  ;  you  foon  fhall  have  to  appear  before  the  tribu- 
nal of  God.  You  may  ufefully  employ  the  moment, 
which  yet  remains  to  you  :  Almoft  all  thofe,  whofe  depar- 
ture from  this  world  you  are  daily  witnefling,  allow  it  to 
flip  from  them,  and  die  without  having  reaped  any  advan- 
tage from  it :  You  imitate  their  neglect ;  the  fame  fur- 
prife  awaits  you,  and  like  them  you  will  be  cut  off  before 
the  work  of  reformation  has  commenced.  They  had  been 
warned  of  it,  and  in  the  fame  manner  we  warn  you  ;  their 
mifery  touches  you  not ;  and  the  unfortunate  lot  which 
awaits  you,  will  not  more  fenfibly  affecl  thofe  to  whom  we 
fhall  one  day  announce  it ;  it  is  a  fucceffion  of  blindnefs, 
which  pafles  from  father  to  fon,  and  is  perpetuated  on  the 
earth  :  We  all  wifh  to  live  better,  and  we  all  die  before  we 
have  begun  to  reform. 

Vol.  I.  I  i  Such, 


2^8  SERMON      IX. 

Such,  my  brethren,  are  the  prudent  and  natural  reflec- 
tions which  the  uncertainty  of  our  laft  hour,  mould  lead 
us  to  make.  But  it,  on  account  of  its  uncertainty,  you 
are  imprudent,  in  paying  no  more  attention  to  it,  than  as  if 
it  were  never  to  arrive,  the  fearful  portion  attending  its 
certainty  ftill  lefs  excufes  your  folly,  in  ftriving  to  remove 
that  melancholy  image  from  your  mind,  under  the  pretence 
of  its  only  tending  to  empoifon  every  comfort,  and  to 
deftroy  the  tranquillity  of  life.  This,  is  what  I  have  ftill 
to  lay  before  you. 

Part  II. — Man  loves  not  to  dwell  upon  his  nothingnefs, 
andmeannefs  :  whatever  recals  to  him  his  origin,  puts  him 
in  mind  alfo  of  his  end,  wounds  his  pride,  interefts  felf- 
love,  attacks  the  foundation  of  all  his  paflions,  and  gives 
birth  to  gloomy  and  difagreeable  thoughts.  To  die ;  to 
difappear  from  the  earth  ;  to  enter  the  dark  abyfs  of  eter- 
nity ;  to  become  a  carcafs,  the  food  of  worms,  the  horror 
of  men,  the  hideous  inmate  of  a  tomb ;  that  fight  alone, 
revolts  every  fenfe,  diftracls  reafon,  blackens  imagination, 
and  empoifons  every  comfort  in  lite ;  we  dare  not  fix  our 
looks  on  fo  hideous  an  image  :  we  reject  that  thought,  as 
the  moft  gloomy  and  bitter  of  all :  We  dread,  we  flv  from 
every  thing,  which  may  force  its  remembrance  on  our  mind, 
as  though  it  would  haften  the  approach  of  the  fatal  hour. 
Under  a  pretence  of  tendernefs,  we  love  not  to  hear  men- 
tion of  our  departed  friends  ;  care  is  taken  to  remove  our 
attention,  from  the  places  in  which  they  have  dwelt,  and 
from  every  thing  which,  along  with  their  idea,  at  the  fame 
time  awakens  that  of  death,  which  has  deprived  us  of  them. 
We  dread  all  melancholy  recitals  ;  in  that  refpecl,  we  carry 
our  terrors  even  to  the  moft  childifli  fuperftition  ;  in  every 
trifle  our  fancy  fees  fatal  prognoftications  of  death;  in  the 
wanderings  of  a  dream,  in  the  nightly  founds  of  a  bird,  in 

the 


ON  DEATH.  8,59 

the  cafual  number  of  a  company,  and  in  many  other  cir- 
cumftances  flill  more  ridiculous ;  every  where  we  imagine 
it  before  us ;  and,  for  that  very  reafon,  we  endeavour  to 
expel  it  from  our  thoughts. 

Now,  my  brethren,  thefe  exceflive  terrors,  were  par- 
donable in  Pagans,  to  whom  death  was, the  greateft  misfor- 
tune, feeing  they  had  no  expectation  beyond  the  grave ; 
and  that,  living  without  hope,  they  died  without  confola- 
tion.  But  that  death  mould  be  fo  terrible  to  Chriflians,  i* 
a  matter  of  aftonifhment ;  and  that  the  dread  of  that  image 
fhould  even  ferve  as  a  pretext  to  remove  its  idea  from  their 
minds,  is  ftill  more  fo. 

For,  in  the  firft  place,  I  grant,  that  you  have  reafon  to 
dread  that  lafl  hour  ;  but,  as  it  is  certain,  I  cannot  con- 
ceive why  the  terrors  of  it  mould  prevent  your  mind  from 
dwelling  upon,  and  endeavouring  to  anticipate  its  evils  : 
on  the  contrary,  it.  feems  to  me,  that  in  proportion  as  the 
danger  is  great  to  which  you  are  expofed,  you  ought  more 
conftantly  to  keep  it  in  view,  and  to  ufe  every  precaution, 
that  it  may  not  take  you  unawares.  What !  The  more  the 
danger  alarms  you,  the  more  it  fhould  render  you  indolent 
and  carelefs  !  The  exceflive  and  improper  terrors  of  your 
imagination  fhould  cure  you,  even  of  that  prudent  dread, 
which  operates  your  falvation  ;  and  becaufe  you  dread  too 
much,  you  fhould  abandon  every  thought  of  it !  But,  where 
is  the  man,  whom  a  too  lively  fenfeof  danger  renders  calm 
and  intrepid  ?  Were  it  neceflary  to  march  through  a  nar- 
row and  fteep  defile,  furrounded  on  all  fides  by  precipices, 
would  you  order  your  eyes  to  be  bound,  that  you  might. 
not  fee  your  danger,  and  left  the  depth  of  the  gulf  below 
fhould  turn  your  head  ?  Ah  !  my  dear  hearer,  you  fee  the 
grave  open  before  you,  and  that  fpeclacle  alarms  you  ;  but, 

in. 


26o  SERMON     IX. 

in  place  of  taking  all  the  precautions,  offered  to  you  by 
religion,  to  prevent  you  falling  headlong  into  the  gull, 
you  cover  your  eyes,  that  you  may  not  fee  it :  You  fly  to 
diflipation,  to  chafe  its  idea  from  your  mind  ;  and  like  thole 
unfortunate  victims  of  Paganifm,  you  run  to  the  flake, 
your  eyes  covered,  crowned  with  flowers,  and  furrounded 
by  dancing  and  fongs  of  joy,  that  you  may  not  have  leifure 
to  reflect  on  the  fatal  term,  to  which  this  pomp  conducts, 
and  leaft  you  mould  ice  the  altar,  that  is  to  fay,  the  bed  or 
death,  where  you  are  immediately  to  be  facrificed. 

Befides,  by  repelling  that  thought,  could  you  likewife 
repel  death,  your  terrors  would  then  at  leaft  have  an  ex- 
cufe.  But  think,  or  think  not  on  it,  death  always  advan- 
ces ;  every  effort  you  make,  to  exclude  its  remembrance, 
brings  you  nearer  to  it,  and,  at  the  appointed  hour,  it  will 
come.  What  then  do  you  gain  by  turning  your  mind 
from  that  thought  ?  Do  you  leflen  the  danger  ?  On  the 
contrary,  you  augment  it,  and  render  a  furprifal  inevitable. 
By  averting  your  eyes,  do  you  foften  the  horror  of  that 
fpectacle  ?  Alas  !  You  only  multiply  its  terrors.  Were 
you  to  familiarize  yourfelves  more  with  the  thoughts  of 
death,  your  mind,  weak  and  timid,  would  infenfibly  accuf- 
tom  itfelf  to  it:  You  would  gradually  acquire  courage  to 
view  it  without  anguifh,  or  at  leaft,  with  refignation,  on 
the  bed  of  death ;  it  would  no  longer  be  an  unufual  and 
ftrange  fight.  A  long  anticipated  danger  aftonifhes  not  : 
Death  is  only  formidable  the  firft  time  that  the  imagination 
dwells  upon  it ;  and  it  is  only  when  not  expected,  an  no 
provifion  made  againft  it,  that  it  is  to  be  dreaded. 

But,  when  that  thought  mould  even  difquiet,  and  fill 
you  with  imprefTions  of  dread  and  forrow,  where  would 
be  the  difappointment  ?  Are  you,  upon  the  earth,  to  live 

only 


ON  DEATH.  26l 

only  in  an  indolent  eafe,  and  folely  engrofTed  by  agreeable 
and  fmiling  obje&s  ?  We  fhould  lofe  our  reafon,  fay  you, 
were  we  to  devote  our  attention  to  this  difmal  fpeclacle, 
without  the  relaxation  of  pleafures.  We  fhould  lofe  our 
reafon  !  But  fo  many  faithful  fouls,  who  in  all  their  actions 
mingle  that  thought ;  who  make  the  remembrance  of  that 
Jaft  hour  the  check  to  curb  their  paffions,  and  the  moft 
powerful  inducement  to  fidelity  ;  fo  many  illuftrious  peni- 
tents, who  have  buried  themfelves  alive  in  their  tombs, 
that  they  might  never  lofe  fight  of  that  objecl ;  the  holy, 
who  every  day  fuffered  death,  like  the  Apoftle,  that  they 
might  live  for  ever,  have  they,  in  confequence  of  it,  loft 
their  reafon  ?  You  fhould  lofe  your  reafon  !  That  is  to  fay, 
you  would  regard  the  world  as  an  exilement ;  pleafures  as 
an  intoxication  ;  fin  as  the  greater!  of  evils ;  places,  ho- 
nours, favour,  and  fortune,  as  dreams  ;  and  falvation  as 
the  grand  and  only  objecl:  worthy  of  attention  :  Is  that  to 
lofe  our  reafon  ?  BlefTed  folly  !  And  would  that  you,  from 
this  moment,  were  amongft  the  number  of  thefe  foolifh  fa- 
ges.  You  would  lofe  your  reafon  !  Yes,  that  falfe,  worldly, 
proud,  carnal,  and  miflaken  reafon,  which  feduccs  you  ; 
that  corrupted  reafon,  which  obfcures  faith,  authorifes  the 
paffions,  makes  us  prefer  the  prefent  moment  to  eternity ; 
takes  the  fhadow  for  the  fubflance,  and  leads  all  men  affray  : 
Yes,  that  deplorable  reafon,  that  vain  philofophy,  which 
looks  upon  as  a  weaknefs  the  dread  of  a  future  ftate,  and 
becaufe  it  dreads  it  too  much,  feems,  in  appearance,  or 
endeavours  to  force  itfelf,  not  to  believe  it  at  all.  But 
that  prudent,  enlightened,  moderate,  and  Chriflian  reafon, 
that  wifdom  of  the  ferpent,  fo  recommended  in  the  gofpel, 
it  is  in  that  remembrance  that  you  would  find  it  :  That  wif- 
dom, fays  the  Holy  Spirit,  preferable  to'  all  the  treafures 
and  honours  of  the  earth  ;  that  wifdom  fo  honourable  to 
man,  and  which  exalts  him  fo  much  above  himfelf;  that 

wifdom 


*6«  SERMON    IX. 

wifdom  which  has  formed  fo  many  Chriftian  heroes,  it  is 
the  image  always  prefent  of  your  laft  hour,  which  will  em- 
bellifh  your  foul  with  it.  But  that  thought,  you  add, 
fhould  we  take  it  into  our  head  to  enter  deeply  into,  and 
to  dwell  continually  upon  it,  would  be  fit  to  make  us 
renounce  all,  and  to  form  the  moft  violent  and  overftrain- 
ed  refolutions  ;  that  is  to  fay,  would  detach  you  from  the 
world,  your  vices,  paflions,  the  infamy  of  your  excefles, 
and  make  you  lead  a  chafte,  regular  and  Chriftian  life,  alone 
worthy  of  reafon  :  Thefe  are  what  the  world  calls  violent 
and  overftrained  refolutions.  But  likewife,  under  pretence 
of  fhunning  pretended  excefles,  would  lyou  refufe  to 
adopt  the  moft  neceffary  refolutions  ?  Make  a  beginning  at 
any  rate  ;  the  firft  tranfports  foon  begin  to  abate  ;  and  it  is 
much  more  eafy  to  moderate  the  exceffes  of  piety,  than  to 
animate  its  coldnefs  and  indolence.  Dread  nothing  from 
the  excefiive  fervour  and  tranfports  of  your  zeal ;  you  can 
never,  in  that  refpeft,  go  too  far.  An  indolent  and  fen- 
fual  heart,  fuch  as  your's,  nurfed  in  pleafures  and  effemi- 
nacy, and  void  of  all  tafte  for  whatever  pertains  to  the  fer- 
vice  of  God,  does  not  promife  any  very  great  indifcre- 
tions  in  the  fleps  of  a  Chriftian  life.  You  know  not  your- 
felves ;  you  have  never  experienced  what  obftacles  all 
your  inclinations  will  caft  in  the  way  of  your  fimpleft  ex- 
ertions in  piety.  Take  meafures  only  againft  coldnefs  and 
difcouragement,  which  are  the  only  rock  you  have  to 
dread.  What  blindnefs  !  In  the  fear  of  doing  too  much 
for  God,  we  do  nothing  at  all  :  the  dread  of  bellowing  too 
much  attention  on  our  falvation,  prevents  us  from  labour- 
ing towards  it ;  and  we  lofe  ourfelves  for  ever,  left  we 
fhould  too  furely  attain  falvation  :  We  dread  chimerical 
excefles  of  piety,  and  we  are  not  afraid  of  a  departure 
from,  and  an  a&ual  contempt  of  piety  itfelf.  Does  the 
fear  of  doing  too  much  for  fortune  and  rank,  check  your 

exertions 


ON    DEATH.  263 

exertions,  or  cool  the  ardour  of  your  ambition  ?  Is  it  not 
that  very  hope  which  fupports  and  animates  them  ?  No- 
thing is  too  much  for  the  world,  but  all  is  excefs  for  God  : 
We  fear,  and  we  reproach  ourfekes,  left  we  never  do 
enough  for  an  earthly  eftablifhment ;  and  we  check  our- 
felves,  in  the  dread  of  doing  too  much  lor  an  eternal  for- 
tune. 

But  I  go  further,  and  fay,  that  it  is  a  criminal  ingrati- 
tude towards  God,  to  reject  the  thought  of  death,  merely 
becaufe  it  difquiets  and  alarms  you  ;  for  that  impreflion  of 
dread  and  terror,  is  a  fpecial  grace  with  which  you  are  fa- 
voured by  God.  Alas  !  How  many  impious  characters 
exift  who  defpife  it,  who  claim  a  miferable  merit,  in  be- 
holding with  firmnefs  its  approach,  and  who  regard  it  as 
the  annihilation  oi  their  being !  How  many  fages  and  phi- 
lofophers  in  Chriftianity,  who,  without  renouncing  faith, 
limit  all  their  reflections,  all  the  fuperiority  of  their  talents, 
to  the  tranquil  view  of  its  arrival  ;  and  who,  during  life, 
exert  the  powers  of  their  reafon,  only  in  preparing  for  that 
lad  moment,  a  conftancy  and  ferenity  of  mind,  equally 
abfurd  as  the  moft  vulgar  terrors ;  a  purpofe  the  moft  im- 
prudent to  which  reafon  can  be  applied.  It  is,  therefore, 
a  fpecial  grace  bellowed  on  you  by  God,  when  he  permits 
that  thought  to  have  fuch  an  energy  and  afcendency  in  your 
foul;  in  all  probability,  it  is  the  way  by  which  he  wifhes 
to  recal  you  to  himfelf  :  Should  you  ever  quit  your  erro- 
neous and  iniquitous  courses,  it  will  be  through  its  influ- 
ence :  Your  falvation  feems  to  depend  on  that  remedy. 

Tremble,  my  dear  hearer,  left  your  heart  (hould  fortify 
itfelf  againft  thefe  falutary  terrors;  left  God  fhould  with- 
draw from  you  this  mean  of  falvation,  and  harden  you 
againft  all  the  terrors  of  religion.    A  favour,  not  only  def- 

pifed, 


264  SERMON     IX. 

pi  fed,  but  even  regarded  as  a  punifhment,  is  foon  follow- 
ed with  the  indignation,  or  at  leaft  the  indifference  of  the 
benefactor.     Should  that  unfortunately   be  ever  the   cafe, 
then  will  the  image  of  death  leave  you  all  your  tranquilli- 
ty :  You  will    fly  to  an  entertainment,  the  moment  you 
have    quitted  the  folemnity  of  a  funeral ;  with  the  fame 
eyes  will  you  behold  a  hideous  carcafs,  or  the  criminal  ob- 
ject of  your  paflion  ;  then  will   you  be  even  pleafed  with 
yourfelf  for  having  foared  above  all  thefe  vulgar  fears,  and 
even  applaud  yourfelf,  for  a  change  fo  terrible  towards  your 
ialvation.     Profit  then,  towards  the  regulation  of  your  man- 
ners by  that  fenfibility,  while  it  is  yet  left  to  you  by  God: 
Let  your  mind  dwell  on  all  the  objects  proper  to  recal  that 
image,  while  yet  it  has  influence  to  difturb  the  falfe  peace  of 
your  pafTions  :  Vifit  the  tomb  of  your  anceftors,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  their  afhes,  to  meditate  on  the  vanity  of  all  earthly 
things ;  go  and  afk,  What  now,  in  thefe   dark  habitations 
of  death,  remains  to  them  of  all  their  pleafures,  dignities, 
and  fplendour  ?  open  yourfelf  thefe  gloomy  dwellings,  re- 
flecting on  what  they  had   formerly   been,  in  the  eyes  of 
men,  fee   what  they   now   are ;  fpeclres,  whofe  prefence 
you  with  difficulty  can  fupport ;  loathfome  maffes  of  worms 
and  putrefaction:   Such  are  they  in  the  eyes  of  men;  but 
what  are  they  in  the  fight  of  God  ?  Defcend,  in  idea,  into 
thefe  dwellings  of  horror  and  infection,  and  chufe  before 
hand  your  own  place;  figure  yourfelf  in  that  lafl  hour, 
extended  on   the  bed  of  anguifh,    flruggling  with   death, 
your  limbs  benummed,  and  already   feized  with   a  mortal 
coldnefs ;    your  tongue  already  bound  in    the    chains    of 
death  ;  your  eyes  fixed,  covered  with  a  cloud  of  confufion, 
and  before  which  all  things  begin  to  difappear  ;  your  rela- 
tions and  friends  around  you,  offering  up  ineffectual  wifhes 
for  your  recovery,  and  augmenting  your  fears  and  regrets, 
by   the  tendcrnefs   of  their   figfafs,  and   the   abundance  of 

their 


ON   DEATH.  265 

their  tears  :  ReflecT;  upon  that  fight,  fo  inftruftive,  fo  in- 
terefting  ;  you  then,  in  the  difmal  ftruggles  of  that  laft 
combat,  proving  that  you  are  ftill  in  life,  only  by  the  con- 
vulfions  which  announce  your  death  ;  the  whole  world  an- 
nihilated to  you ;  defpoiled  for  ever  of  all  your  dignities 
and  titles ;  accompanied  folely  by  your  works,  and  ready 
to  appear  in  the  prefence  of  God.  This  is  not  a  prediction; 
it  is  the  hiftory  of  all  thofe  who  die  every  day  to  your 
knowledge,  and  it  is  the  anticipation  of  your  own.  Think 
upon  that  terrible  moment  ;  the  day,  perhaps,  is  not  far  re- 
moved, yet  however  diftant  it  may  be,  you  will  at  laft 
reach  it,  and  the  interval  will  feem  to  you  only  an  inftant ; 
and  the  only  confolation  you  then  can  have,  (hall  be,  to 
have  made  the  ftudy  of,  and  preparation  for  death,  the  em- 
ployment of  your  life. 

Laflly,  As  my  final  argument :  trace  to  their  fource 
thefe  exceflive  terrors,  which  render  the  image  and  thoughts 
of  death  fo  terrible,  and  you  will  undoubtedly  find  them 
originating  from  the  diforders  of  a  criminal  confcience  : 
It  is  not  death  which  you  dread,  it  is  the  juftice  of  God 
which  awaits  you  beyond  it,  to  punifh  the  infidelities  and 
primes  of  your  life  :  It  is,  that  covered  as  you  are  with 
the  moft  fhameful  wounds,  which  disfigure  in  you  his  im- 
age, you  are  not  in  a  ftate  to  prefent  yourfelves  before  him  ; 
and  that  to  die  in  your  prefent  fituation,  mult  be  to  perifh 
for  ever.  Purify  then  your  confcience,  put  an  end  to, 
and  expiate  your  criminal  paflions  ;  recal  God  to  your 
heart  ;  no  longer  offer  to  his  fight  any  thing  worthy  of  his 
anger  or  punifhment ;  place  yourfelves  in  a  ftate  to  hope 
fomething  after  death,  from  his  infinite  mercy  ;  then  fhall 
you  fee  that  laft  moment  approach  with  lefs  dread  and  trem- 
bling ;  and  the  facrifice  which  you  fhall  already  have  made 
to  God,  of  the  world  and  your  paflions,  will  not  only  ren- 

Vol.  I.  K  k  der 


266  SERMON     IX. 

der  eafy,  but  even  fweet  and  confoling,  the  facrifice  you 
will  then  make  to  him  of  your  life. 

For  fay,  What  has  death  fo  fearful  to  a  faithful  foul  ? 
From  what  does  it  feparate  him  ?  From  a  world  which  fhall 
perifh,  and  which  is  the  country  of  the  reprobate;  from 
his  riches,  which  torment  him,  of  which  the  ufe  is  fur- 
rounded  with  dangers,  and  which  he  is  forbid  to  ufe  in 
the  gratification  of  the  fenfes;  from  his  relations  and 
friends,  whom  he  precedes  only  a  moment,  and  who  fhall 
foon  follow  him ;  from  his  body,  which  hitherto  had 
been  either  a  rock  to  his  innocence,  or  a  perpetual  obfta- 
cle  to  his  holy  defires  ;  from  his  offices  and  dignities, 
which,  in  multiplying  his  duties,  augmented  his  dangers  ; 
laflly,  from  life,  which  to  him  was  only  an  exilement,  and 
an  anxious  defire  to  be  delivered  from  it.  What  does  death 
beftow  on  him,  to  compenfate  for  what  it  takes  away  ?  It 
bellows  unfading  riches,  of  which  none  can  ever  deprive ; 
eternal  joys,  which  he  fhall  enjoy  without  fear  orremorfe  ; 
the  peaceable  and  certain  pofleflion  of  God  himfelf,  from 
which  he  can  never  be  degraded;  deliverance  from  all  his 
paflions,  which  had  ever  been  a  conftant  fource  of  difquiet 
and  diflrefs  ;  an  unalterable  peace,  which  he  could  never  find 
on  the  earth  ;  and  laflly,  the  fociety  of  thejuft  and  happy,  in 
place  of  that  of  Tinners,  from  whom  it  feparates  him.  What 
then,  O  my  God  !  has  the  world  fo  delightful,  to  attach  a 
faithful  foul  ?  To  him  it  is  a  vale  of  tears,  where  dangers 
are  infinite,  combats  daily,  victories  rare,  and  defeats 
certain ;  where  every  gratification  muft  be  denied  to 
the  fenfes  ;  where  all  tempts,  and  all  is  forbidden  to 
us;  where,  we  muft  fly  from  and  dread  what  moft  plea- 
fes  us;  in  a  word,  where  if  you  fuffer  not,  if  you  weep 
not,  if  you  refiftnot  to  the  utmoft  extremity,  if  you  com- 
bat not  without  ceafing,  if  you  hate  not  yourfelf,  you  are 

loft. 


ON  DEATH.  i6y 

loft.  What  then  do  you  find  {o  amiable,  fo  alluring,  fo 
capable  of  attaching  a  Chriftian  foul  ?  and  to  die,  is  it  not 
again,  and  a  triumph  for  him  ? 

Befides,  death  is  the  only  objecl  he  looks  forward  to  ;  it 
is  the  only  confolation  which  fupports  the  fidelity  of  the 
juft.  Do  they  bend  under  afflictions  ?  They  know  that 
their  end  is  near ;  that  the  fhort  and  fleeting  tribulations  of 
this  life  mail  foon  be  followed  by  a  load  of  eternal  glory  ; 
and  in  that  thought  they  find  an  inexhauftible  fource  of  pa- 
tience, fortitude  and  joy.  Do  they  feel  the  law  of  the 
members  warring  againft  the  law  of  the  fpirit,  and  exciting 
commotions,  which  bring  innocence  to  the  very  brink  of 
the  precipice  ?  They  are  not  ignorant,  that  after  the  dif- 
folution  of  the  earthly  frame,  it  fhall  be  reftored  to  them 
pure  and  celeftial ;  and  that  delivered  from  thefe  bonds  of 
mifery,  they  fhall  then  refemble  the  heavenly  fpirits ;  and 
that  remembrance  fooths  and  ftrengthens  them.  Do  they 
groan  under  the  weight  of  the  yoke  of  Jefus  Chrift  ;  and 
their  faith,  more  weak,  is  it  on  the  point  of  relaxing  and 
>finking  under  the  rigid  duties  of  the  gofpel  ?  Ah  !  the 
day  of  the  Lord  is  nigh  ;  they  almoft  touch  the  bleffed  re- 
compenfe  ;  and  the  end  of  their  courfe,  which  they  already 
fee,  animates,  and  gives  them  trefh  vigor.  Hear  in  what 
manner  the  Apoftle  confoled  the  firft  Cbriftians :  My  bre- 
thren, faid  he  to  them,  time  is  fhort,  the  day  approaches, 
the  Lord  is  at  the  gate,  and  he  will  not  delay  ;  rejoice  then  ; 
I  again  fay  to  you,  rejoice.  Such  was  the  only  confolation 
of  men,  persecuted,  infulted,  profcribed,  trampled  upon, 
regarded  as  the  fcum  of  the  earth,  the  difgrace  of  the  Jews, 
and  the  feoff  of  the  Gentiles.  They  knew  that  death  would 
foon  dry  up  their  tears  ;  that  for  them,  there  would  then  be 
neither  mourning,  forrow,  nor  fufferance  ;  that  all  would  be 
changed  ;  and  that  thought  foftened  every  pain  :  Ah  !  wfeo- 

foevcr 


268  SERMON    IX. 

foever  had  told  thefe  generous  juftifiers  of  faith,  that  the 
Lord  would  never  make  them  know  death,  but  would  leave 
them  to  dwell  forever  on  the  earth,  would  have  fhaken  their 
faith,  tempted  their  conftancy,  and,  by  robbing  them  of 
that  hope,  would  have  deprived  them  of  every  confolation. 

You,  my  brethren,  are  no  doubt  little  furprifed  at  this; 
beeaufe  death  muft  appear  a  refuge,  to  men  affli&ed  and 
unhappy  as  they  were.  You  are  miftaken  :  It  was  neither 
their  perfections  nor  fufferings  which  occafioned  their 
diftrefs  and  forrow  ;  thefe  were  their  joy,  confolation,  and 
pride  :  We  glory,  (aid  they,  in  tribulations  :  it  was  the 
Hate  of  feparation  in  which  they  ftill  lived  from  Jefus 
Chrift ;  that  alone  was  the  fource  of  their  tears,  and  what 
rendered  death  fo  defirable. 

While  we  are  in  the  body,  faid  the  Apoftle,  we  are  fe- 
parated  from  the  Lord  ;  and  that  feparation  was  a  ftate  of 
anguifh  and  forrow  to  thefe  faithful  Chriflians :  Piety  con- 
fids  in  wifhing  for  a  re-union  with.  Jefus  Chrift  our  head ; 
in  fighing  for  the  happy  moment  which  fhall  incorporate  us, 
with  the  chofen  of  God,  in  that  myftical  body,  which, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  is  forming,  of  every 
tongue,  every  tribe,  and  every  nation  ;  which  is  the  com- 
pletion of  the  defigns  of  God,  and  which  will  glorify  him, 
with  Jefus  Chrift,  to  all  eternity.  Here,  we  are  like 
branches  torn  from  their  ftem  ;  like  ftrangers,  wandering 
in  a  foreign  land  ;  like  fettered  captives  in  a  prifon,  wait- 
ing their  deliverance ;  like  children,  banifhed  for  a  time 
from  their  paternal  inheritance  and  manfion  ;  in  a  word, 
like  members  feparated  from  their  body.  Since  Jefus 
Chrift,  our  Head,  afcended  to  Heaven,  the  earth  is  no 
longer  the  place  of  our  cftablifhment ;  we  look  forward, 
in  bltfted  expedition,  to  the  coming  of  the  Lord;  that 

defire 


ON  DEATH. 


269 


defire  constitutes  all  our  piety  and  confolation :  And  a  Chrif* 
tian,  not  to  long  for  that,  happy  moment,  but  to  dread,  and 
even  look  upon  it  as  a  misfortune,  is  to  fly  in  the  face  of 
Jefus  Chrift  ;  to  renounce  all  communication  with  him ; 
to  reject  the  promifes  of  faith,  and  the  glorious  title  of  a 
citizen  of  Heaven ;  it  is  to  centre  our  happinefs  on  the 
things  of  the  earth,  to  doubt  a  future  ftate,  to  regard  reli- 
gion as  a  dream,  and  to  believe  that  all  dies  with  us. 

No,  my  brethren,  death  has  nothing  to  a  juft  foul,  but 
what  is  pleafing  and  defirable  :  Arrived  at  that  happy  mo- 
ment, he,  without  regret,  fees  a  world  perifh,  which  he 
had  never  loved,  and  which  to  him  had  never  appeared 
otherwife  than  a  confufion  of  vanities  :  His  eyes  clofe  with 
pleafure  on  all  thofe  vain  fhows  which  the  earth  offers, 
which  he  had  always  regarded  as  the  fplendor  of  a  moment, 
and  whofe  dangerous  illufions  he  had  never  ceafed  to  dread: 
He  feels,  without  uneafinefs,  what  do  I  fay  ?  with  fatisfac- 
tion,  that  mortal  body,  which  had  been  the  fubjecl;  of  all 
his  temptations,  and  the  fatal  fource  of  all  his  weakneffes, 
become  clothed  with  immortality  :  He  regrets  nothing  on 
the  earth,  where  he  leaves  nothing  ;  and  from  whence  his 
heart  flies  along  with  his  foul :  He  even  complains  not, 
that  he  is  carried  off  in  the  middle  of  his  career,  and  that 
his  days  are  concluded  in  the  flower  of  his  age :  On  the 
contrary,  he  thanks  his  deliverer,  for  having  abridged  his 
fufferings  with  his  years,  for  having  exacted  only  a  portion 
of  his  debt,  as  the  price  of  his  eternity,  and  for  having  fpee- 
dily  confummated  his  facrifice,  left  a  longer  refidence  in  a 
corrupted  world  mould  have  perverted  his  heart.  His  trials, 
his  mortifications,  which  had  coft  fo  much  to  the  weak- 
nefs  of  the  flefh,  are  then  his  fweeteft  reflections  :  He  fees 
that  all  now  vanimes,  except  what  he  has  done  for  God  ; 
that  all  now  abandon  him,  his  riches,  relations,    friends 

and 


*yo 


SERMON     IX. 


and  dignities ;  his  works  alone  remaining ;  and  he  is  tranf- 
ported  with  joy,  to  think  that  he  had  never  placed  his 
Iruft  in  the  favour  of  princes,  in  the  children  of  men,  in 
the  vain  hopes  of  fortune,  in  things  which  muft  foon  pe- 
rifh,  but  in  the  Lord  alone,  who  remaineth  eternally,  and 
in  whofe  bofom  he  goes  to  experience  that  peace  and  tran- 
quillity which  mortals  cannot  beftow.  Thus  tranquil  on 
the  paft,  defpifing  the  prefent,  tranfported  to  touch  at  laft 
that  futurity,  the  fole  obje&  of  his  defires,  already  feeing 
the  bofom  of  Abraham  open  to  receive  him,  and  the  Son 
of  Man  feated  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father,  holding  out 
for  him  the  crown  of  immortality,  he  fleeps  in  the  Lord, 
he  is  wafted  by  bleffed  fpirits  to  the  habitation  of  the  holy, 
and  returns  to  the  place  from  whence  he  originally  came. 

May  you,  my  brethren,  in  this  manner,  fee  your  courfe 
terminated. 


SERMON 


SERMON  X. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,  AND  THAT  OF 
A   RIGHTEOUS  CHARACTER, 


Rev.  xiv.  13. 
Blejfed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord. 

A  here  is  fomething  peculiarly  linking  and  incomprehen- 
fible  in  the  human  paflions. 

All  men  wifli  to  live  ;  they  look  upon  death  as  the  moft 
dreadful  of  all  evils  ;  all  their  paflions  attach  them  to  life ; 
yet  neverthelefs  thofe  very  paflions  inceflantly  urge  them 
towards  that  death,  for  which  they  feel  fuch  horror  ;  nay, 
it  fhould  even  feem,  that  their  only  purpofe  in  life  is  to  ac- 
celerate the  moment  of  death. 

All  men  flatter  themfelves,  that  they  fhall  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous  :  They  wifh  it ;  they  expe£r.  it.  Know- 
ing the  impoflibility  of  remaining  lor  ever  upon  this  earth, 
they  truft,  that  before  the  arrival  of  their  laft  moment,  the 
paflions  which  at  prefent  pollute,  and  hold  them  in  captivi- 
ty, fhall  be  completely  overcome.  They  figure  to  them- 
felves, as  horrible,  the  lot  of  a  finner,  who  expires  in  his 
iniquity,  and  under  the  wrath  of  God,  yet  neverthelefs 
they  tranquilly  prepare  for  themfelves  the  fame  defliny. 

This 


27a  SERMON     X. 

This  dreadful  period  of  human  life,  which  is  death  in  fin, 
flrikes  and  appals  them  ;  yet,  like  fools,  they  blindly  and 
merrily  purfue  the  road  which  leads  to  it.  In  vain  do  we 
announce  to  them,  that  in  general  men  die  as  they  have 
lived  :  They  wifh  to  live  the  life  of  a  finner,  yet  never- 
thelefs  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous. 

My  intention,  at  prefent,  is  not  to  undeceive  you  with 
regard  to  an  illufion  fo  common,  and  fo  ridiculous,  (let  us 
referve  this  fubjecl:  for  another  occafion)  ;  but,  fince  the 
death  of  the  righteous  appears  fo  earneftly  to  be  wifhed  for, 
and  that  of  the  finner  fo  dreadful  to  you,  I  mean,  by  a 
reprefentation  of  them  both,  to  excite  your  defires  tor  the 
one,  and  to  awaken  your  juft  terrors  for  the  other.  As 
you  mud  finally  quit  this  world  in  one  of  thefe  two  fitua- 
tions,  it  is  proper  to  familiarize  yourfelves  with  a  view  oi 
them  both,  that  by  placing  before  your  eyes  the  melancho- 
ly fpe&acle  of  the  one,  and  the  foothing  confolations  of 
the  other,  you  may  be  enabled  to  judge  which  of  the  lots 
awaits  you;  and,  confequently,  to  adopt  the  neceflary 
means  to  fecure  the  decifion  in  your  favour. 

In  the  picture  of  the  expiring  finner,  you  will  fee  in 
what  the  world,  with  all  its  glory  and  pleafures,  termi- 
nates ;  from  the  recital  of  the  laft  moments  of  the  righte- 
ous man,  you  will  learn  to  what  virtue  conducls,  in  fpite 
of  all  its  momentary  checks  and  troubles.  In  the  one  you 
will  fee  the  world  from  the  eyes  of  a  finner  in  the  moment 
of  death  :  And  how  vain,  frivolous,  and  different  from 
what  it  feems  at  prefent  will  it  then  appear  to  you  !  In  the 
other,  you  will  fee  virtue  from  the  eyes  of  the  expiring 
righteous  man :  How  grand  and  eftimable  will  your  heart 
then  acknowledge  it  to  be ! 


In 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &c.  273 

In  the  one,  you  will  comprehend  all  the  mifery  of  a 
foul,  which  has  lived  forgetful  of  its  God.  In  the  other, 
the  happinefs  of  him  who  has  lived  only  to  pleafe  and  to 
ferve  him.  In  a  word,  the  piclure  of  the  death  of  the 
finner  will  make  you  wifh  to  live  the  life  of  the  righteous ; 
and  the  image  of  the  death  of  the  juft  will  infpire  you  with  a 
holy  horror  at  the  life  of  the  finner. 

Part  I. — In  vain  do  we  repel  the  image  of  death  ;  every 
day  brings  it  nearer.  Youth  glides  away  ;  years  hurry  on  ; 
and,  like  water,  fays  the  Scripture,  fpilt  upon  the  ground, 
which  cannot  be  gathered  up  again,  we  rapidly  courfe  to- 
wards the  abyfs  of  eternity,  where  for  ever  fwallowed  up, 
we  can  never  return  upon  our  fleps,  to  appear  once  more 
upon  the  earth. 

I  know  that  the  brevity  and  uncertainty  of  life  are  con- 
tinual fubje£h  of  converfation  to  us.  The  deaths  of  our 
relations,  our  friends,  our  companions,  frequently  fudden, 
and  always  unexpected,  furnifh  us  with  a  thoufand  reflec* 
tions  on  the  frailty  of  every  thing  terreftrial. 

We  are  inceflantly  repeating,  that  the  world  is  nothing ; 
that  life  is  but  a  dream ;  and  that  it  is  a  finking  folly  our 
interefling  ourfelves  fo  deeply  for  what  mull  pafs  fo  quick- 
ly away.  But  thefe  are  merely  words ;  they  are  not  the 
fentiments  of  the  heart ;  they  are  difcourfes  offered  at  the 
fhrine  of  cuftom  ;  and  that  very  cuflom  occafions  their 
being  immediately,  and  for  ever  forgot. 

Now,  my  brethren,  form  to  yourfelves  a  deftiny  on  this 
earth,  agreeable  to  your  own  wifhes :  Lengthen  out  in  your 
own  minds,  your  days  to  a  term  beyond  your  moil  fanguine 
hopes.     I  even  wijhyou  to  indulge  in  the  enjoyment  of  fo 

Vol.  I.  L 1  pleafing 


274  SERMON     X. 

pleafing  an  illufion  :  But  at  laft,  you  muft  follow  the  track 
which  your  forefathers  have  trod  :  You  will  at  laft  fee  that 
day  arrive,  to  which  no  other  fhall  fucceed ;  and  that  day 
will  be  the  day  of  your  eternity  :  Happy,  if  you  die  in  the 
Lord:  Miferableif  you  depart  in  fin.  One  of  thefe  lots  awaits 
you  :  In  the  final  decifionupon  all  men,  there  will  be  only 
two  fides,  the  right  and  the  left ;  two  divifions,  the  goats 
and  the  fheep.  Allow  me  then  to  recal  you  to  the  bed  of 
death,  and  to  expofe  to  your  view  the  double  fpe&acle  of 
this  laft  hour,  fo  terrible  to  the  (inner,  and  fo  confolatory 
to  the  righteous  man. 

I  fay  terrible  to  the  finner,  who,  lulled  by  vain  hopes  of 
a  converfion,  at  laft  reaches  this  fatal  moment ;  full  of  de- 
fires,  empty  of  good  works  ;  having  ever  lived  a  ftranger 
to  the  Lord,  and  unable  now  to  make  any  offering  to  him, 
but  of  his  crimes,  and  the  anguifh  of  feeing  a  period  put 
to  thofe  days,  which  he  vainly  believed  would  endure  for 
ever.  Now  nothing  can  be  more  dreadful  than  the  (itua- 
tion  of  this  unfortunate  wretch,  in  the  laft  moments  of 
his  life !  Whichever  way  his  mind  is  employed,  whether 
in  recalling  the  paft,  or  confidering  what  is  acting  around 
him  ;  in  a  word,  whether  he  penetrates  into  that  awful  fu- 
turity, upon  the  brink  of  which  he  hangs,  or  limits  his  re- 
flections to  the  prefent  moment  ;  thefe  objects,  the  only 
ones  which  can  occupy  his  thoughts,  or  prefent  themfelves 
to  his  fancy,  only  open  to  him  the  blacked:  profpe&s,  which 
overwhelm  him  with  defpair. 

For  what  can  the  paft  ofFer  to  a  (inner,  who  extended  up- 
on the  bed  of  death,  begins  now  to  yield  up  dependence 
upon  life,  and  reads,  in  the  countenances  of  thofe  around 
him,  the  dreadful  intelligence,  that  all  is  over  with  him  ? 
What  now  does  he  fee  in  that  long  courfe  of  days,  which 

he 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C.  2/^ 

he  has  run  through  upon  the  earth  ?  Alas !  he  fees  only 
vain  cares  and  anxieties ;  pleafures  which  patted  away  be- 
jore  they  could  be  enjoyed,  and  iniquities  which  muft  en- 
dure for  ever. 

Vain  cares. — His  whole  life,  which  now  appears  to  have 
occupied  but  a  moment,  prefents  itfelf  to  him,  and  in  it  he 
views  nothing  but  one  continued  conftraint,  and  an  ufelefs 
agitation.  He  recals  to  his  mind  all  he  has  fuffered  for  a 
world,  which  now  flies  from  him  ;  for«a  fortune,  which 
now  vanifhes;  for  a  vain  reputation,  which  accompanies 
him  not  into  the  prefence  of  God ;  for  friends,  whom  he 
lofes  ;  for  mailers,  who  will  foon  forget  him  ;  for  a  name, 
which  will  be  written  only  on  the  afhes  of  his  tomb.  What 
regret  muft  agitate  the  mind  of  this  unfortunate  wretch, 
when  he  fees  that  his  whole  life  has  been  one  continued 
toil,  yet  that  nothing  to  the  purpofe  has  been  accomplished 
for  himfelf !  What  regret,  to  have  fo  often  done  violence 
to  his  inclinations,  without  gaining  the  advance  of  a  fingle 
ftep  towards  heaven  !  To  have  always  believed  himfelf  too 
feeble  for  the  fervice  of  God,  and  yet  to  have  had  the 
ftrength  and  the  conftancy  to  fall  a  martyr  to  vanity,  and  to 
a  world  which  is  on  the  eve  of  periihing ! 

Alas !  it  is  then  that  thefmner,  overwhelmed,,  terrified  at 
his  own  blindnefs  and  miftake,  no  longer  finding  but  an 
empty  fpace  in  a  life  which  the  world  had  alone  engrofied  ; 
perceiving,  that,  after  along  fuccefhon  of  years  upon  the 
earth,  he  has  not  yet  begun  to  live  ;  leaving  hiftory,  per- 
haps, full  of  his  aciions,  the  public  monuments  loaded 
with  the  tranfaclions  of  his  life,  the  world  filled  with  his 
name,  and  nothing,  alas  !  which  deferves  to  be  written  in  the 
book  of  eternity,  or  which  may  follow  him  into  the  pre- 
fence of  God  :  Then  it  is,  though  too  late,  that  be  begins  to 

hold 


276  SERMON     X. 

hold  a  language  tohimfelf,  which  we  have  frequent  oppor- 
tunities of  hearing:  "  I  have  lived,  then,  only  for  vanity  ? 
•«  Why  have  I  not  ferved  my  God,  as  I  have  ferved  my  maf* 
"  ters  ?  Alas  !  Were  fo  many  anxieties,  and  fo  much  trou- 
"  ble,  neceflary  toaccomplifh  my  own  deftruttion  ?  Why, 
"  at  leaft  did  I  not  receive  my  confolation  in  this  world  ? 
"  I  mould  have  enjoyed  the  prefent,  that  fleeting  moment 
•*  which  pafles  away  from  me  ;  and  I  mould  not  then  have 
"  loft  all.  But  my  life  has  been  always  filled  with  anxie- 
"  ties,  fubje&ions,  fatigues,  andreftraints ;  and  all  thefe  in 
"  order  to  prepare  for  me  everlafting  mifery.  What  mad- 
M  nefs  to  have  fufTered  more  towards  my  own  ruin,  than 
"  was  required  to  have  accomplifhed  my  falvation  ;  and  to 
H  have  regarded  the  upright,  as  a  melancholy  and  an  unfup- 
"  portable  one;  feeing  they  have  done  nothing  fo  difficult 
"  for  God,  that  I  have  not  performed  an  hundred-fold  for 
"  the  world,  which  is  nothing,  and  from  which  I  have 
u  confequently  nothing  to  expecV 

Yes,  my  brethren  it  is  in  that  laft  moment  that  your 
whole  life  will  prefent  itfelf  to  your  view  ;  but  in  very 
different  colours  from  thofe  in  which  it  appears  to  you  to- 
day. At  prefent  you  count  upon  fervices  performed  for 
the  ftate  ;  places  which  you  have  filled  ;  a&ions  in  which 
you  have  diftinguifhed  yourfelves  ;  wounds,  which  ftill 
bear  teftimony  to  your  valour;  the  number  of  your  cam- 
paigns ;  the  fplendour  of  your  orders ;  all  thefe  appear 
objects  of  importance  and  reality  to  you.  The  public 
applaufes  which  accompany  them;  the  rewards  with  which 
they  are  followed  ;  the  fame  which  publifhes  them ;  the 
diitin&ions  attached  to  them  ;  all  thefe  only  recal  your  paft 
days  to  you,  as  days  full,  occupied,  marked  each  by  fome 
memorable  action,  and  by  events  worthy  of  being  for  ever 
preferved  to  poflerity.     You  even  diflinguifh  yourfelves, 

in 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C.  <ljf 

in  your  own  minds,  from  thofe  indolent  characters  of  your 
own  rank,  who  have  led  an  obfcure,  idle,  and  ufelefs  life, 
and  difhonoured  their  names,  by  that  flothful  effeminacy, 
which  has  kept  them  always  grovelling  in  the  duft.  But 
on  the  bed  of  death,  in  that  laft  moment,  when  the  world 
flies  off,  and  eternity  approaches,  your  eyes  will  be  open- 
ed ;  the  fcene  will  be  changed ;  the  illufion,  which  at  pre* 
fent  magnifies  thefe  objects,  will  be  diffipated.  You  will 
fee  things  as  they  really  are ;  and  that  which  formerly  ap- 
peared fo  grand,  fo  illuftrious,  as  it  was  done  only  for  the 
fake  of  the  world,  of  glory,  of  fortune,  will  no  longer 
appear  of  theleaft  importance  to  you. 

You  will  no  longer  find  any  thing  real  in  your  life,  but 
what  you  fhall  have  done  for  God  ;  nothing  praifeworthy, 
but  works  of  faith  and  of  piety  ;  nothing  great,  but  what  will 
merit  eternity  ;  and  a  fingle  drop  of  cold  water  in  the  name 
of  Jefus  Chrift,  a  fingle  tear  fhed  in  his  prefence,  and  the 
flighteft  mortification  fuffered  for  his  fake,  will  all  appear 
more  precious,  more  eftimable  to  you,  than  all  the  won- 
ders which  the  world  admires,  and  which  fhall  perifh  with  it. 

Not  that  the  dying  finner  finds  only  cares  and  anxieties 
thrown  away  in  his  paft  life,  he  finds  the  remembrance 
likewife  of  his  pleafures ;  but  this  very  remembrance  de- 
preffes  and  overwhelms  him :  Pleafures,  which  have  ex- 
ifled  only  for  a  moment :  He  now  perceives  that  he  has 
facrificed  his  foul,  and  his  .eternal  welfare,  to  a  fugitive 
moment  of  pafiion  and  voluptuoufnefs.  Alas  !  lite  had 
appeared  too  long  to  him,  to  be  entirely  confecrated  to 
God :  He  was  afraid  to  adopt  too  early  the  fide  of  virtue, 
left  he  fhould  be  unable  to  fupport  its  duration,  its  weari- 
nefs,  and  its  confequences.     He  looked  forward  to  the 

years 


278  SERMON     X. 

years  lie  had  ftill  to  run,  as  to  an  immenfe  fpace,  through 
which  he  mufi  travel  under  the  weight  of  the  Crofs,  and 
feparated  from  the  world,  in  the  practice  of  Chriftian 
works  :  This  idea  alone  had  always  fufpended  his  good  in- 
tentions; and  in  order  to  return  to  God,  he  waited  the 
Jafl  flage  oi  life,  as  the  one  in  which  perfeverance  is  mod 
certain.  What  a  furprife  in  this  laft  hour,  to  find,  that 
what  had  to  him  appeared  fo  long,  has  in  reality  been  but 
an  inftant ;  that  his  infancy  and  old  age  fo  nearly  touch  each 
other,  that  they  only  form,  as  I  may  fay,  one  day  :  and  that,, 
from  his  mother's  breaft,  he  has  made  but  one  ftep  towards, 
the  grave.  Nor  is  this  the  bittereft  pang  which  he  experi- 
ences in  the  remembrance  of  his  pleafures :  they  have 
vanifhed  like  a  dream  ;  but  he,  who  formerly  claimed  an 
honour  to  himfelt  from  their  gratification,  is  now  covered 
with  confufion  and  fhame  at  their  recollection  :  So  many 
fhameful  excefles  ;  fuch  weaknefs  and  debauchery  :  He, 
who  piqued  himlelf  upon  reafon,  elevation  of  mind,  and 
haughtinefs  towards  man  ;  O  my  God  !  he  then  finds  him- 
felf  the  weakeft,  the  moft  defpicable  oi  finners  !  Appa- 
rently, perhaps,  a  life  of  prudence,  yet  funk  in  all  the  in- 
famy of  the  fenfes,  and  the  puerility  of  the  paflions !  A 
life  of  glory  in  the  eyes  of  men ;  but  in  the  fight  of  God, 
the  moft  fhameful,  the  moft  deferving  of  contempt  and, 
difgrace !  A  life,  which  fuccefs,  perhaps,  had  continually 
accompanied;  yet,  neverthelefs,  in  private,  the  moft  ab- 
furd,  the  moft  trifling,  the  moft  deftitute  of  reflection  and. 
wifdom ! 

Pleafures,  in  a  word,  which  have  been  the  fource  of  all 
his  chagrins  ;  which  have  empoifoned  every  enjoyment  o£ 
life  ;  which  have  changed  his  happieft  days  into  days  of 
madnefs  and  lamentation. 

Pleafures,. 


THE    DEATH   OF   A   SINNER,    &C.  2jg 

Pleafures,  for  which  he  has  ever  paid  dear  ;  and  of  which 
he  has  never  experienced  but  the  anxieties  and  the  bitter- 
nefs  :  fuch  are  the  foundations  of  this  frivolous  happinefs. 
His  pafTions  alone  have  rendered  life  miferable  to  him  ;  and 
the  only  moments  of  tranquillity  he  has  enjoyed,  in  the 
whole  courfe  of  his  life,  are  thofe  in  which  his  heart  has 
been  fheltered  from  their  influence.  The  days  of  my 
pleafures  are  fled,  fays  then  the  fmner  to  himfelf,  but  in  a 
difpofition  of  mind  very  different  from  that  of  Job  : 
•'  Thofe  days  which  have  occafioned  all  the  forrows  of  my 
«'  life  ;  by  which  my  reft  has  been  broken,  and  the  calm 
"  ftillnefs  of  the  night  changed  into  the  blacked  thoughts 
"  and  uneafineffes.  Yet  neverthelefs,  Great  God  !  Thou 
"  wilt  ftill  punifh  the  forrows  and  diflrefTes  of  my  unfortu- 
"  nate  life  !  All  the  bitternefs  of  my  pafTions  is  marked 
"  againftme  in  the  book  of  thy  wrath  ;  and  thou  prepared 
"  for  me,  in  addition  to  gratifications  which  have  always 
"  been  the  fource  of  all  my  miferies,  a  mifcry  without  end, 
"  and  boundlefs," 

Behold  what  the  expiring  finner  experiences  in  the  re- 
membrance of  the  pad:  Crimes,  which  lhall  endure  for 
ever ;  the  weaknefles  of  childhood  ;  the  diflipations  of 
youth;  the  pafTions  and  the  diforders  of  a  more  advanced 
period  ;  what  do  I  know,  perhaps  even  the  fhameful  ex- 
ceffes  of  a  licentious  old  age.  Ah  !  my  brethren,  whilft 
in  health,  we  perceive  only  the  furface  of  our  confeience  : 
We  recal  only  a  vague  and  confnfed  remembrance  of  our 
life:  We  fee  only  the  paflions  which  aclually  enchain  us; 
a  complete  life,  fpent  in  the  habits  of  iniquity,  appears  to 
us  only  a  fingle  crime.  But  on  the  bed  of  death,  the 
darknefs  fpread  over  the  confeience  of  the  finner  is  diflipa- 
ted.  The  more  he  fearches  into  his  heart,  the  more  does 
he  difcover  new   flains  ;  the   deeper  he  enters   into  that 

abyfs, 


280  SERMON    X. 

abyfs,  the  more  do  new  monfters  of  horror  prefent  them- 
felves  to  his  fight.  He  is  loft  in  the  chaos,  and  knows  not 
how  to  proceed.  To  enlighten  it,  an  entire  new  life 
would  be  neceflary  :  Alas  !  and  time  flies  ;  fcarcely  do  a 
few  moments  now  remain  to  him,  and  he  muft  precipitate 
a  confeflion,  for  which  the  greateft  leifure  would  hardly 
fuffice,  and  which  can  precede  but  an  inftant  the  awful 
judgment  of  the  juftice  of  God.  Alas  !  we  often  com- 
plain, during  life,  of  a  treacherous  memory  ;  that  we  for- 
get every  thing  ;  that  the  minifler  of  God  is  under  the  ne- 
ceflity  of  remedying  our  inattention,  and  of  affifting  us  to 
know  and  to  judge  of  ourfelves.  But  in  that  laft  moment, 
the  expiring  finner  fhall  require  no  afliftance  to  recal  the 
remembrance  of  his  crimes  :  The  juftice  of  God,  which 
had  delivered  him  up,  during  health  to  all  the  profundity 
of  his  darknefs,  will  then  enlighten  him  in  his  wrath. 

Every  thing  around  his  bed  of  death  awakens  the  re- 
membrance of  fome  new  crime  ;  fervants,  whom  he  has 
fcandalized  by  his  example ;  children,  whom  he  has  ne- 
glected ;  a  wife,  whom  he  has  rendered^miferable  by  un- 
lawful attachment.;  minifters  of  the  church,  whom  he  has 
defpifed  ;  riches,  which  he  has  abufed  ;  the  luxury  which 
furrounds  him,  for  which  the  poor  and  his  creditors  have 
fuffered  ;  the  pride  and  magnificence  of  his  edifices,  which 
have  been  reared  up  upon  the  inheritance  of  the  widow 
and  the  orphan,  or  perhaps  by  the  public  calamity  :  every 
thing,  in  a  word,  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  fays  Job, 
fhall  reveal  his  iniquity,  and  rife  up  againft  him  ;  fhall  recal 
to  him  the  frightful  hiftory  of  his  palhons,  and  of  his 
crimes. 

Thus,  the  recollection  of  thepaft  forms  one  of  the  moll 
dreadful  fituations  of  the  expiring  finner  ;  becaufe  in  it  he 

finds 


TftE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,   Set.  28 1 

finds  nothing  but  labours  loft  ;  pleafures,  which  have  been 
diflipated  the  moment  almoft  of  their  exiftence ;  and 
crimes  which  fhall  endure  for  even 

But  thefcenes  around  him  are  not  lefs  gloomy  to  this. un- 
fortunate foul :  His  furprifes,  his  feparations,  his  changes* 

His  furprifes.— He  had  always  flattered  himfelf,  that  the 
hour  of  the  Lord  would  not  furprife  him.  Whatever  had 
been  faid  to  him  on  the  fubjeel:  from  the  pulpit,  had  not 
prevented  him  from  afluring  himfelf,  that  his  confeience 
fhould  be  properly  arranged  before  the  arrival  of  this  dread- 
ed moment ;  he  has  reached  it,  however,  ftill  loaded  with 
all  his  crimes,  without  preparation,  without  the  perform- 
ance of  a  fingle  exertion  towards  appeafing  the  wrath  of 
the  Almighty  ;  he  has  reached  it,  while  he  leaft  thought 
of  it,  and  he  is  now  to  be  judged. 

His  furprifes.— God  flrikes  him  in  the  2enith  of  his  paf- 
fions  ;  in  the  time,  when  the  thoughts  of  death  were  moft 
diftant  from  his  mind  ;  when  he  had  attained  to  places  he  had 
long  ardently  flruggled  for  ;  and  when,  like  the  foolifh 
man  in  the  gofpel,  he  had  exhorted  his  foul  to  repofeitfelf, 
and  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  fruit  of  its  labours.  It  is  in  this 
moment  that  thejuftice  of  God  furprifes  him;  and  he  fees 
life,  with  every  imaginary  hope  of  happinefs,  blafted  for 
ever. 

His  furprifes. — He  is  on  the  brink  of  the  gulf,  and  the 
Almighty  willeth  that  no  one  fhall  dare  to  inform  him  of 
his  fituation.  His  relations  flatter  him  ;  his  friends  leave 
him  undeceived  :  They  already  lament  him,  in  fecret,  as 
dead,  yet  they  continue  to  fpeak  of  his  recovery ;  they 
deceive  him,  in  order  that  he  may  deceive  himfelf.     The 

Vol.  I,  Mm  Scriptures 


!SS2  SERMON     X. 

Scriptures  muft  be  fulfilled  :  The  firmer  muft  be  taken  by 
furprife  in  this  laft  moment  :  Thou  haft  faid  it,  O  my 
God  !  and  thy  words  are  the  words  of  truth. 

His  furprifes. — Abandoned  by  all  the  fuccours  of  art, 
delivered  up  alone  to  anguifh  and  difeafe,  he  ftill  cannot 
perfuade  himfelf  that  death  is  near  :  He  flatters  himfelf — » 
he  ftill  hopes  :  The  juftice  of  God,  it  would  feem,  leaves 
him  a  remnant  of  reafon,  for  the  fole  purpofe  of  feducing 
himfelf.  From  his  terrors,  his  aftonifhment,  his  inquie- 
tudes, we  fee  clearly  that  he  ftill  comprehends  not  the  ne- 
ceflity  of  death.  He  torments,  he  agitates  himfelf,  as  if 
by  thefe  means  he  could  efcape  death  ;  but  his  agitations, 
are  only  occafioned  by  regret  for  the  lofs  of  life,  and  are 
not  the  effects  of  grief,  for  having  wickedly  fpent  it.  The 
blinded  finner  muft  be  fo  to  the  end;  and  his  death  muft  be 
fimilar  to  his  life. 

In  a  word,  his  furprifes. — He  fees  now  that  the  world 
has  all  along  deceived  him;  that  it  has  continually  led  him 
from  illufton  to  illufion,  and  from  hope  to  hope  ;  that 
things  have  never  taken  place  exactly  as  he  had  promifed 
himfelf;  and  that  he  has  always  been  the  dupe  of  his  er- 
rors. He  cannot  comprehend  how  his  blindnefs  could 
poftibly  be  fo  conftant ;  that  for  fuch  a  feries  of  years  he 
could  obftinately  continue  to  make  fuch  Sacrifices  for  a 
world,  for  mafters,  whofe  only  payment  has  been  vain 
promifes ;  and  that  his  entire  life  has  been  one  continued 
indifference  on  the  part  of  the  world  fco  him,  and  an  intox- 
ication on  his  to  the  world.  But  what  overpowers  him  is, 
the  iinpoffibility  of  remedying  the  miflake  ;  that  he  can 
die  only  once  ;  and  that  after  having  badly  run  his  race, 
he  can  no  more  recal  the  paft,  or,  by  retracing  his  fteps, 
undertake  a  new  trial.     Thou  art  juit,  O  my   God!  and 

thou 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C.  283 

thou  willeft  that  the  (inner  mould  in  advance  pronounce 
againft  himfelf,  in  order  that  he  may  afterwards  be  judged 
from  his  own  mouth. 

The  furprifes  of  the  dying  Tinner  are,  therefore,  over- 
whelming ;  but  the  reparations  which  take  place  in  that 
moment  are  not  lefs  fo  for  him.  The  more  he  was  attached 
to  the  world,  to  life,  to  all  its  works,  the  more  does  lie 
fufifer  when  a  reparation  becomes  inevitable  :  Every  tie, 
which  now  muff  be  broken  afunder,  becomes  a  wound 
which  rankles  in  his  heart  :  Ever/  feparation  becomes  a 
new  death  to  his  mind.. 

Separation  from  the  riches  which,  with  fiich  eonftant  and 
laborious  attention,  he  had  accumulated,  by  means,  per- 
haps, repugnant  to  .falvation  ;  in  the  pofieflion  ot  which 
he  obftinately  perfifted,  in  fpite  of  all  the  reproaches  of 
his  confcience,  and  which  he  had  cruelly  refufed  to  the 
neceffities  oi  his  brethren.  The)r  now,  however,  efca'pe 
from  him :  The  m»fs  of  earth  is  diflipated  before  his  eyes ; 
his  love,  his  regret  for  their  lofs,  and  the  guilt  of  having 
acquired  them,  are  the  only  remaining  proofs  that  they 
were  once  in  his  poffeffion. 

Separation  from  the  magnificence  which  furrounds  him  : 
From  his  proud  edifices,  in  whofe  flately  walls  he  once 
fondry  believed  he  had  ere£ted  an  afylum  againft  death : 
From  the  vanity  and  luxury  of  his  furniture,  of  all  which 
no  portion  mail  no*v  remain  to  him,  but  the  mourn i'vl 
cloth,  which  is  to  encircle  him  in  the  tomb  :  From  that  air 
of  opulence,  in  the  midft  of  which  he  had  always  lived. 
All  efcape  from  him;  all  abandon  him  ;  and  he  begins  to 
look  upon  himfelf  as  a  ltranger  in  the  midft  of  his  palaces; 
where  indeed  he  ought  always  to  have  confide  red  himfelf 

a* 


984  SERMON    X. 

as  fuch  ;  as  an  unknown,  who  no  longer  pofTefles  any 
thing  there  ;  as  an  unfortunate  wretch,  whom  they  are  on 
the  point  of  Gripping  before  his  eyes,  and  whom  they  only 
allow  to  gratify  his  fight  with  the  fpoils  for  a  little  while, 
in  order  to  augment  his  regret,  and  his  punifhment. 

Separation  from  his  honours  and  offices,  which  he  leaves* 
perhaps  to  a  rival ;  to  which  he  had  at  laft  attained,  by 
wading  through  fo  many  dangers,  fo  many  anxieties,  fo 
many  meanneffes,  and  which  he  had  enjoyed  with  fo  much 
infolence  and  pride.  He  is  already  on  the  bed  of  death, 
ilript  of  all  the  marks  of  his  dignities,  and  of  all  his  titles, 
preferving  that  of  finner  alone,  which  he  in  vain,  and 
now  too  late,  beftows  upon  himfelf.  Alas !  in  this  laft 
moment,  he  would  gladly  embrace  the  moll  fervile  condi- 
tion ;  he  would  accept,  as  a  favour,  the  molt  obfcure  and 
the  moft  grovelling  ftation,  could  but  his  days  be  prolong- 
ed on  thefe  conditions  :  He  envies  the  lot  of  his  flaves* 
whom  he  leaves  behind  him  :  He  rapidly  advances  towards 
death,  and  turns  back  his  eyes  with  regret,  to  take  a  lin- 
gering look  of  life. 

Separation  from  his  body,  for  whofe  gratification  he 
had  always  lived,  and  with  which,  by  favouring  all  its 
paflions,  he  had  contra&ed  fuch  lively  and  intimate  ties. 
He  feels  that  the  houfe  of  mud  is  crumbling  into  duft ;  he 
feels  the  approaches  of  death  in  each  of  his  fenfes ;  he  no 
longer  holds  to  life,  but  by  a  carcafe  which  moulders  away  ; 
by  the  cruel  agonies  which  his  difeafes  make  him  feel ;  by 
the  excefs  of  his  love  for  it,  and  which  becomes  more  live- 
ly in  proportion  as  he  advances  towards  the  moment  of 
feparation.  From  his  relations,  from  his  friends,  whom 
he  fees  furrounding  his  bed,  and  whofe  tears  and  lamenta- 
tions wring  his  heart,  and  make  him  cruelly  feel  theanguifh 
of  loofing  them  for  ever.  Separation 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,   &C.  285 

Separation  from  the  world,  where  he  had  enjoyed  fo  ma- 
ny diftinguifhed  offices  ;  where  he  had  eftablifhed,  aggran- 
difed,  and  arranged  himfelf,  as  if  it  had  been  intended  for 
the  place  of  his  eternal  refidence ;  from  the  world,  in 
whofe  fmiles  he  only  lived ;  on  whofe  ftage  he  had  ever 
been  one  of  the  principal  actors ;  in  whofe  tranfaclions 
he  had  always  taken  fuch  an  active  part,  and  where  he  had 
figured  with  fo  much  fplendour,  and  fo  many  talents,  to 
render  himfelf  confpicuous  in  it.  His  body  now  quits  it ; 
but  his  heart  and  all  his  affections  are  centered  in  it  ftill  : 
The  world  dies  to  him,  but  he  himfelf,  in  expiring,  die* 
not  to  the  world. 

Then  it  is  that  the  Almighty  is  great,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
expiring  finner.  It  is  in  that  terrible  moment,  that  the 
whole  world  crumbling,  difappearing  from  his  fight,  he 
fees  only  God,  who  remaineth,  who  filleth  all,  who  alone 
changeth  not,  and  pafleth  not  away.  Formerly  he  ufed  to 
complain,  with  an  impious  and  ironical  air,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  feel  any  fervent  emotions  for  a  God  whom  we 
fee  not,  and  not  to  love  beings  whom  we  perceive,  and 
whointereft  all  our  fenfes.  Ah!  in  this  laft  moment,  he 
fhall  fee  only  God :  The  hitherto  Invifible  will  now  be 
<vifible  to  him  ;  his  fenfes,  already  extinguished,  will  reject 
all  fenfual  objects  ;  all  fhall  vanifh  around  him  ;  and  God 
will  take  the  place  of  thofe  delufions,  which  had  milled 
and  deceived  him  through  life. 

Thus  every  thing  changes  to  this  unfortunate  wretch*; 
and  thefe  changes,  with  his  feparations  and  furprifes,  oc- 
cafion  the  laft  bitternefs  of  the  fpectacle  of  death. 

Change  in  his  credit  and  in  his  authority. — From  the  mo- 
ment that  nothing  farther  is  to  be  expected  from  his  life, 

the 


286  SERMON     X. 

the  world  ceafes  to  reckon  upon  him :  His  pretended 
friends  withdraw;  his  dependents  already  feek,  elfcwhere, 
other  prote&ors,  and  other  matters  :  Even  his  flaves  are  em* 
ployed  in  fecuring  to  themfelves,  after  his  death,  an  eftab* 
li(hment  which  may  fuit  them  ;  fcarcely  does  a  fufficient 
number  remain  around  him  to  catch  his  laft  fighs.  All 
abandon  him ;  all  withdraw  themfelves  :  He  no  longer  fees' 
around  him  that  eager  crowd  of  worfhippers  ;  it  is  a  fuc^ 
ceflbr,  perhaps,  upon  whom  they  already  lavifh  the  fame 
attentions  ;  whilft  he,  fays  Job,  alone  in  the  bed  of  his  an- 
guifh,  is  no  longer  furrounded  but  by  the  horrors  of  death  ; 
already  enters  into  that  frightful  folitude  which  the  grave 
prepares  for  him,  and  makes  bitter  reflections  on  the  in- 
conftancy  of  the  world,  and  the  little  dependence  to  be 
placed  on  men. 

Change  in  the  public  efteem,  with  which  he  had  been  fo 
flattered,  fo  intoxicated. — Alas  1  that  world,  by  which  he 
had  been  fo  celebrated,  has  already  forgotten  him.  The 
change  which  his  death  fhall  neceffarily  occafion  in  the 
fcene,  may  perhaps  engage,  for  a  few  days,  the  public  at- 
tention ;  but  this  fhort  interval  over,  and  he  fhall  be  plunge 
ed  in  oblivion  ;  fcarcely  will  it  be  remembered  that,  he 
has  exifted :  Every  tongue  will  now  be  employed  in  cele- 
brating the  abilities  of  a  fucceffor,  and  exalting  his  cha- 
racter, upon  the  wrecks  of  his  memory  and  reputation*  He 
already  perceives  this  neglect  ;  that  he  has  only  to  die,  and 
the  blank  will  fpeedily  be  filled  up  ;  that  no  veflige  of  him 
fhall  even  remain  in  the  world  ;  and  that  the  upright  alone, 
who  had  feen  him  furrounded  with  all  his  pomp,  will  fay 
to  themfelves,  Where  is  he  now  ?  Where  now  are  thofe 
flatteries  which  his  greatnefs  attracted  ?  Behold  to  what  the 
world  conducts,  and  what  is  to  be  the  portion  of  thofe  who 
ferve  it ! 

.  Change 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,   &C.  287 

Change  in  his  body. — That  flefh,  which  he  had  flattered, 
idolifed  fo  much  ;  that  vain  beauty,  which  had  attracted  fa 
many  glances,  and  corrupted  fo  many  hearts,  is  already  but 
afpe&acle  of  horror,  whofe  fight  is  hardly  fupportable  ;  it 
is  no  longer  but  a  carcafe,  which  is  approached  with  dread. 
That  unfortunate  creature,  who  had  lighted  up  fo  many  un- 
juft  paflTions.  Alas!  his  friends,  his  relations,  even  his 
flaves  avoid  him,  conceal  themfelves,  dare  not  approach 
him,  but  with  precaution,  and  no  longer  beftow  uponhira 
but  the  common  offices  of  decency,  and  even  thefe  with 
relu&ance.  He  himfelf  fhrinks  with  horror,  and  fhudders 
at  himfelf.  I,  fays  he  to  himfelf,  who  formerly  attracted 
every  look  :  "I  call  my  fervants,  and  they  give  me  no  an- 
<*  fwer :  My  breath  is  corrupt ;  my  days  are  extinct ;  the 
"  grave  is  ready  for  me." — Job  xix.  17. 

Laftly,  change  in  every  thing  which  furrounds  him. — - 
His  eyes  feek  fome  refling  place,  fome  objecl:  of  comfort, 
and  no  where  do  they  find  but  the  dreary  reprefentations  of 
death.  Yet  even  ftill,  the  remembrance  of  the  paft,  and 
the  view  of  the  prefent,  would  be  little  to  the  expiring 
finner  ;  could  he  confine  himfelf  to  thefe,  he  would  not  be 
fo  completely  miferable  ;  but  the  thoughts  of  a  futurity 
convulfe  him  with  horror  and  defpair.  That  futurity,  that 
incomprehenfible  region  of  darknefs,  which  he  now  ap- 
proaches, conference  his  only  companion  :  That  futurity, 
that  unknown  land  from  which  no  traveller  has  ever  re- 
turned ;  where  he  knows  not  whom  we  fhall  find,  nor 
what  awaits  him  :  That  futurity,  that  tathomlefs  abyfs,  in 
which  his  mind  is  loft  and  bewildered,  and  into  which  he 
inuft  now  plunge,  ignorant  of  his  deftiny  :  That  futurity, 
that  tomb,  that  refidenceof  horror,  where  he  rauft  now  oc- 
cupy his  place  amongft  the  afhes  and  the  carcafes  of  his 
anceftors :  That  futurity,  that  incomprehenfible  eternity, 

even 


a8S  sermon    x. 

even  the  afpe&of  which  he  cannot  fupport:  That  futurity* 
in  a  word,  that  dreadful  judgment  to  which,  before  the 
wrath  of  God,  he  mull  now  appear,  and  render  an  account 
of  a  life,  of  which  every  moment  almoft  has  been  occupied 
by  crimes.  Alas !  while  he  only  looked  forward  to  this 
terrible  futurity,  at  a  diftance,  he  made  an  infamous  boaft 
of  not  dreading  it :  He  continually  demanded,  with  a  tone 
of  blafphemy  and  derifion,  Who  is  returned  from  it?  He 
ridiculed  the  vulgar  apprehenfions,  and  piqued  himfelf  up- 
on his  undaunted  courage.  But  from  the  moment  that 
the  hand  of  God  is  upon  him  ;  from  the  moment  that 
death  approaches  near,  that  the  gates  of  eternity  open 
to  receive  him,  and  that  he  touches  upon  that  terri- 
ble futurity,  againfl  which  he  feemed  fo  fortified  ;  ah !  he 
then  becomes  either  weak,  trembling,  difTolved  in  tears, 
raifing  up  fuppliant  hands  to  heaven,  or  gloomy,  filent, 
agitated,  revolving  within  himfelf  the  moft  dreadful 
thoughts,  and  no  longer  expe&ing  more  confolation  or 
mercy,  from  his  weak  tears  and  lamentations,  than  from  his 
frenzies  and  defpair. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  this  unfortunate  wretch,  who  had  al- 
ways lulled  himfelf  in  his  excefles ;  always  flattered  him- 
felf that  one  good  moment  alone  was  neceflary,  one  fenti- 
ment  of  compunction  before  death,  to  appeafe  the  anger 
of  God,  defpairs  then  of  his  clemency.  In  vain  is  he  told 
of  his  eternal  mercies  ;  he  feels  to  what  a  degree  he  is  un- 
worthy of  them:  In  vain  the  minifter  of  the  church  en- 
deavours to  footh  his  terrors,  by  opening  to  him  the  bo- 
fom  of  his  divine  mercy  ;  thefe  promifes  touch  him  little, 
becaufe  he  knows  well  that  the  charity  of  the  church, 
which  never  defpairs  of  falvation  for  its  children,  cannot, 
however,  alter  the  awful  judgments  of  the  juftice  of  God. 
In  vain  is  he  promifed  forgivcnefs  of  his  crimes  ;  a  fecret 

and 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINN£R,    &C.  £% 

and  terrible  voice  refounds  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart, 
and  tells  him,  that  there  is  no  falvation  for  the  impious, 
and  that  he  can  have  no  dependence  upon  promifes  which 
are  given  to  his  miferies,  rather  than  to  the  truth.     In  vain, 
is  he  exhorted  to  apply  to  thofe  lafl;  remedies  which  the 
church  offers  to  the  dying  ;  he  regards  them  as  defparate  re- 
liefs, which  are  hazarded  when  hope  is  over ;  and  which  are 
beftowed  more  for  the  confoiation  of  the  living,  than  from 
any  profpe6r.  of  utility  to  thofe  who  are  departing.     Ser- 
vants of  Jefus  Chrifl:  are  called  in  to  fupport  him  in  this  lafl 
moment;  whilft  all  he  is  enabled  to  do,  is  fecretly  to  envy 
their  lot,  and  to  deteft  the  mifery  of  his  own  :  His  friends 
and  relations  are  aflembled  round  his  bed,  to  receive  his 
lafl  fighs,  and  he  turns  away  from  them  his  eyes,  becaufe 
he  finds  ftill  amidft  them  the  remembrance  of  his  crimes. 
Death,  however,  approaches  :  The  minifter  endeavours  to 
fupport,  by  prayer,  that  fpark  of  life  which  ftill  remains: 
"  Depart,  Chriftian  foul,"  fays  he  :  He  fays  not  to  him, 
Prince,  grandee  of  the  world,  depart.      During  his  life, 
the  public  monuments  were  vhardly  fufficient  for  the  num- 
ber and  pride  of  his  titles  :  In  this  laft  moment,  they  give 
him  that  tide  alone  which  he  had  received  in  baptifm ;  the 
only  one  to  which  he  had  paid  no  attention,  and  the  only 
one  which  can  remain  to  him  for  ever.     Depart,  Chriftiau 
foul.     Alas  !  he  had  lived  as  if  the  body  had  formed  his  on- 
ly being  and  treafure  :  He  had  even  tried  to  perfuade  him- 
felf,  that  his  foul  was  nothing  :  That  man  is  only  a  compo- 
fition  of  flefh  and  blood,  and  that  every  thing  perifhes  with 
us :  He  is  now  informed,  that  it   is  his   body,  which  is 
nothing  but  a  morfel  of  clay,  now  on  the  point  of  crum- 
bling into  pieces  ;  and  that  his  only  immortal  being,  is 
that  foul,    that  image  of  the  Divinity,    that  intelligence, 
alone  capable  of  knowing  and  loving  its  Creator,  which 
now  prepares  to  quit  its  earthly  manfion,  and  appear  be- 
.  Vol.  I.  N  n  tore 


29O  SERMON   X. 

fore  his  awful  tribunal.  Depart,  Chriflian  foul.  You  had 
looked  upon  the  earth  as  your  country ;  and  it  was  only  a 
place  of  pilgrimage,  from  which  you  muft  depart :  The 
Church  thought  to  have  announced  glad  tidings  to  you,  the 
expiration  of  your  exilement,  in  announcing  the  diffolu- 
tion  of  your  earthly  frame  :  Alas  !  and  it  only  brings  you 
melancholy  and  frightful  news,  and  opens  the  commence- 
ment of  your  miferies  and  anguifh. 

Depart  then,  Chriflian  foul.  Soul,  marked  with  the 
feal  of  falvation,  which  you  have  effaced.  Redeemed  by 
the  blood  of  Jefus  Chrift,  whom  you  have  trampled  under 
foot :  Purified  by  the  grace  of  regeneration,  which  you 
have  a  thoufand  times  flained  ;  enlightened  by  the  lights  of 
the  faith,  which  you  have  always  rejected  ;  loaded  with  all 
the  tender  mercies  of  Heaven,  which  you  have  always  un- 
worthily profaned.  Depart,  Chriflian  foul.  Go,  and  car- 
ry before  Jefus  Chrift  that  auguft  title,  which  mould  have 
been  the  illuftrious  mark  of  your  falvation,  but  which  now 
becomes  the  greateft  of  your  crimes. 

Then,  the  expiring  finner,  no  longer  finding  in  the  re- 
membrance of  the  paft,  but  regrets  which  overwhelm  him  : 
In  all  which  takes  place  around  him,  but  images  which 
affli£t  him :  In  the  thoughts  of  futurity,  but  horrors  which 
appal  him  :  No  longer  knowing  to  whom  to  have  recourfe  ; 
neither  to  created  beings,  who  now  leave  him ;  nor  to  the 
world,  which  vanifhes  ;  nor  to  men,  who  cannot  fave  him 
from  death  ;  nor  to  the  Jufl  God,  whom  he  looks  upon  as  a 
declared  enemy,  and  from  whom  he  has  no  indulgence  to 
expecl;  ;  a  thoufand  horrors  occupy  his  thoughts ;  he  tor- 
ments, he  agitates  himfelf,  in  order  to  fly  from  death  which 
grafps  him,  or  at  leaflto  fly  from  himfelf:  From  his  expir- 
ing eyes,  ifl'ue  fomething,  I  know  not  what  of,  dark  and 

gloomy, 


THE   DEATH  OF   A   SINNER,    &C  29 1 

gloomy,  which  exprefles  the  fury  of  his  foul ;  in  his  an- 
guifh,  he  utters  words  interrupted  by  fobs,  which  are  un- 
intelligible, and  to  which  they  know  not  whether  repen- 
tance or  defpair  gives  birth.  He  is  feized  with  convulfions, 
which  they  are  ignorant  whether  to  afcribe  to  the  a&ual 
diffolution  of  his  body,  or  to  the  foul  which  feels  the  ap- 
proach of  its  Judge  :  He  deeply  [fighs  ;  and  they  know 
not  whether  the  remembrance  of  his  paft  crimes,  or  the 
defpair  at  quitting  life,  forces  from  him  fuch  groans  of  an- 
guifh.  At  laft,  in  the  midft  of  thefe  melancholy  exer- 
tions, his  eyes  fix,  his  features  change,  his  countenance 
becomes  disfigured,  his  livid  lips  convulfively  feparate; 
his  whole  frame  quivers;  and,  by  this  laft  effort,  his  un- 
fortunate foul  tears  itfelf  reluclantly  from  that  body  of  clay, 
falls  into  the  hands  of  its  God,  and  finds  itfelf  alone  at  the 
foot  of  the  awful  tribunal. 

.  My  brethren,  in  this  manner  do  thofe  expire  who  forget 
their  Creator  during  life.  Thus  fhall  you  yourfelves  die, 
if  your  crimes  accompany  you  to  that  laft  moment. 

Every  thing  will  change  in  your  eyes,  and  you  fhall  not 
change  yourfelves  :  You  fhall  die,  and  you  fhall  die  in  fin, 
as  you  have  lived  ;  and  your  death  will  be  fimilar  to  your 
life.  Prevent  this  mifery,  O  my  brethren.  Live  the  life 
of  the  righteous;  and  your  death,  fimilar,  to  theirs,  will 
be  accompanied  with  joy,  peace,  and  confolation.  This 
is  what  I  mean  to  explain  in  the  fecond  part  of  this  Dif- 
courfe. 

Part  II. — I  know,  that  even  to  the  moft  upright  fouls, 
there  is  always  fomething  terrible  in  death.  The  judgments 
of  God,  whofe  profound  fecrecy  they  dread  ;  the  darknef- 
fes  of  their  own  confcience,  in  which  they  continually 

figure 


2£2 


SERMON     X, 


figure  to  themfelves  hidden  ftains,  known  to  the  Almighty 
alone  ;  the  livelinefs  of  their  faith,  and  of  their  love,  which 
in  their  own  fight  magnifies  their  fmalleft  faults  ;  in  a  word, 
the  diflblution  itfelf  of  their  earthly  frame,  and  the  natural 
horror  we  feel  for  the  grave  :  Allthefe  occafion  death  to  be 
attended  by  a  natural  fenfation  of  dread  and  repugnance, 
in  fo  much,  that  as  St.  Paul  fays,  the  moil  upright  them- 
felves, who  anxioufly  long  to  be  clothed  with  that  immor- 
tality promifed  to  them,  would  yet  willingly  attain  it, 
-without  being  divefted  of  the  mortality  which  encompafles 
them. 

It  is  not  lefs  true,  however,  that  in  them,  grace  rifes  fu- 
perior  to  that  horror  at  death,  which  fprings  from  Nature  ; 
and  in  that  moment,  whether  they  recal  the  paft,  confider 
the  prefent,  or  look  forward  to  the  future,  they  find,  in 
the  remembrance  of  the  paft,  the  end  of  their  troubles  ;  in 
the  confideration  of  the  prefent,  a  novelty,  which  moves 
them  with  a  holy  joy  ;  in  their  views  towards  the  future, 
the  certainty  of  an  eternity,  which  fills  them  with  rapture  ; 
in  fo  much,  that  the  fame  fituations,  which  are  the  occafion 
of  defpair  to  the  dying  finner,  become  then  an  abundant 
fource  of  confolation  to  the  faithful  foul. 

I  fay,  whether  they  recal  the  paft  :  And  here,  my  bre- 
thren, figure  to  yourfelves  a  righteous  character  on  the 
bed  of  death,  who  has  long,  by  the  practice  of  Chriftian 
works,  prepared  himfelf  for  this  laft  moment ;  has  amaffed 
a  treafure  of  righteoufnefs,  that  he  may  not  appear  empty- 
handed  in  the  prefence  of  his  Judge  ;  and  has  lived  in  faith, 
that  he  may  die  in  peace,  and  in  all  the  confolations  of 
hope  :  Figure  to  yourfelves  this  foul,  reaching  at  laft  that 
final  hour,  of  which  he  had  never  loft  fight,  and  with  which 
he  had  always  connected  all  the  troubles,  all  the  wants,  all 

the 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,   &C.  29  j 

the  felf-denials,  all  the  events  of  his  mortal  life.  I  fay 
that  nothing  is  more  foothing  to  him,  than  the  remembrance 
of  the  paft ;  of  his  fufferings,  of  his  mortifications,  oi  all 
the  trials  which  he  has  undergone. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  it  appears  frightful  to  you  at  prefent 
to  fuffer  for  God.  The  fmalleft  exertions  upon  yourfelves 
required  by  religion,  feem  to  overpower  you  ;  you  con- 
fider  as  unhappy  thofe  who  bear  the  yoke  of  Jefus  Chrift, 
and  who,  to  pleafe  him,  renounce  the  world,  and  all  its 
charms.  But  on  the  bed  of  death,  the  moll  foothing  re- 
flection to  a  faithful  foul,  is  the  remembrance  of  what  he 
has  fufTered  for  his  God.  He  then  comprehends  all  the 
merit  of  penitence,  and  how  abfurd  men  are,  to  difpute 
with  God,  a  moment  of  constraint,  which  will  be  entitled 
to  the  recompenfe  of  a  felicity  without  end,  and  without 
meafure.  For  then,  his  confolation  is,  that  he  has  facrifi- 
ced  only  the  gratifications  of  a  moment,  of  which  there 
would  only  remain  to  him  now,  the  confufion  and  the 
fhame  ;  that  whatever  he  might  have  fuffered  for  the  world, 
would  in  this  moment  be  loft  to  him  ;  on  the  contrary, 
that  the  fmalleft  fuffering  for  God,  a  tear,  a  mortification, 
a  vain  pleafure  facrificed,  an  improper  defire  reprefled, 
will  never  be  forgotten,  but  fhall  laft  as  long  as  God  him- 
felf.  What  confoles  him  is,  that  of  all  the  human  luxu- 
ries and  enjoyments,  alas !  on  the  bed  of  death  there  re- 
main no  more  to  the  finner  who  has  always  indulged  in 
them,  than  to  the  righteous  man  who  has  always  abltained 
from  them  :  that  they  are  equally  paft  to  them  both  ;  but 
that  the  one  fhall  bear  eternally  the  guilt  of  having  deliver- 
ed himfelf  up  to  them,  and  the  other  the  glory  of  having 
known  how  to  vanquifh  them. 


This 


294  S  E  R  M  O  N      X.  ;• 

This  is  what  the  paft  offers  to  a  faithful  foul,  on  the  bed 
of  death.  Sufferings,  affli&i  ons,  which  have  endured  but 
a  little  while,  and  which  are  now  to  be  eternally  rewarded  : 
The  time  of  dangers  and  temptations  paft  ;  the  attacks  made 
by  the  world  upon  his  faith  at  laft  terminated  ;  the  trials  in 
which  his  innocence  had  run  fo  many  rifks,  at  laft  difap- 
peared  ;  the  occafions  in  which  his  virtue  had  fo  nearly- 
been  fhipwrecked,  at  laft  for  ever  removed  ;  the  continual 
combats  which  he  had  to  fuftain  againft  his  paflions,  at  laft 
ended  ;  and  every  obftacle  which  flefh  and  blood  had  al- 
ways placed  in  the  way  of  his  piety,  for  ever  annihilated. 
How  fweet  it  is,  when  fafely  arrived  in  port,  to  recal  the 
remembrance  of  paft  dangers  and  tempefts  !  When  victori- 
ous in  the  race,  how  pleafmg  to  retrace,  in  imagination, 
our  exertions,  and  to  review  thofe  parts  of  the  courfe  moft 
diftinguifhed  by  the  toils,  the  obftacles,  and  the  difficulties 
which  have  rendered  them  celebrated. 

The  righteous  man  then  appears  to  me  like  another  Mo- 
fcs,  expiring  on  the  holy  mountain,  where  the  Lord  had 
marked  out  to  him  his  grave  :  "  Get  thee  up  into  the  moun- 
"  tain  Abarim,  and  die,"  &c.  Deut.  xxxii.  49;  who  be- 
fore he  expired,  looking  down  from  that  facred  place,  and 
calling  his  eyes  over  that  extent  of  country,  the  nations 
and  kingdoms  he  had  traverfed,  and  now  leaves  behind  him, 
reviews,  in  imagination,  the  numberlefs  dangers  hehadef- 
caped  ;  his  battles  with  fo  many  conquered  nations;  the 
fatigues  of  the  defart  ;  the  fnares  of  Midian  ;  the  mur- 
murs and  calumnies  of  his  brethren  ;  the  rocks  fplit  in  pie- 
ces ;  the  dangers  of  Egypt  avoided  ;  the  waters  of  the  Red 
Sea  got  over  ;  hunger,  thirft,  and  wearinefs  ftruggled 
againft  ;  and  touching  at  laft  the  happy  term  of  fo  many 
labours,  and  viewing  from  afar  that  country  promifed  to 

hi* 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &c.  29,5 

his  fathers,  he  fings  a  fong  of  thankfgiving  and  praife  to 
God;  dies  tfanfported  with  joy,  both  at  the  remembrance 
of  fo  many  dangers  avoided,  and  at  the  profpe£r.  of  that 
place  of"  reft,  which  the  Lord  fhews  him  from  afar;  and 
looks  upon  the  holy  mountain,  where  he  is  to  expire,  as 
the  reward  of  his  toils,  and  the  happy  term  of  his  courfe. 

Not  that  the  rembrance  of  the  paft,  in  recalling  to  the 
dying  righteous  foul  the  trials  and  dangers  of  his  paft  life, 
does  not  alfo  remind  him  of  his  infidelities  and  wanderings ; 
but  thefe  are  errors  expiated  by  the  fighs  of  repentance  ; 
wanderings  which  have  fortunately  been  followed  by  a  re- 
newal of  fervour  and  fidelity  ;  wanderings  which  recal  to 
him  the  mercies  of  God  to  his  foul,  who  hath  made  his 
crimes  the  means  of  his  repentance,  his  paflions  of  his 
converfion,  and  his  errors  of  his  falvation.  The  grief  for 
his  faults,  in  this  laft  moment,  becomes  only  a  forrow  of 
confolation  and  tendernefs  ;  and  tears  which  this  remem- 
brance draws  from  him  ftill,  are  no  longer  but  the  tears  of 
joy  and  gratitude. 

The  former  mercies  of  God  to  his  foul  fill  him  with  con- 
fidence, and  infpire  him  with  a  juft  hope  of  more;  the 
paft  conduct  of  God,  with  regard  to  him,  comforts  his 
heart,  and  feems  to  anfwer  for  what  he  fhall  experience  in 
future.  He  no  longer,  as  in  the  days  of  his  penitence  and 
mourning,  figures  to  himfelf  the  Almighty  under  the  idea 
of  a  terrible  and  fevere  judge,  whom  he  had  infulted,  and 
whom  it  was  neccffary  to  appeafe  ;  but  as  the  Father  of  mer- 
cies, and  a  God  of  all  confolation,  who  prepares  to  re- 
ceive him  into  his  bofom,  and  there  fhelter  him  from  all 
his  afflictions. 

"  Awake, 


296  SERMON    X. 

"  Awake,  righteous  foul,"  fays  then  to  him  in  fecret 
his  Lord  and  his  God ;  "  Thou  who  haft  drunken  the 
"  dregs  of  the  cup  of  trembling,  thou  fhalt  no  more  drink 
••  it  again ;  the  days  of  thy  tribulation  are  paft.  Shake 
M  thyfelf  from  the  duft,  arife,  and  fit  down ;  loofe  thy- 
"  felf  from  the  bands  of  thy  neck,  O  captive  daughter  of 
"  Zion  :  Put  on  thy  ftrength,  put  on  thy  beautiful  gar- 
"  ments  :  Enter  into  the  everlafting  joy  of  thy  Lord,  where 
"  thou  (halt  obtain  gladnefs  and  peace,  and  forrow  and 
"  mourning  fhall  flee  away.'*  Ifaiah  li.   17.  &c. 

Firft  confolation  of  the  upright  foul  in  the  bed  of  death  ; 
the  remembrance  of  the  paft. — But  all  which  takes  place 
around  him  ;  the  world  which  flies  from  him ;  all  created 
beings  which  difappear ;  all  that  phantom  of  vanity  which 
vanifhes ;  this  change,  this  novelty,  is  the  fource  ftill  of  a 
thoufand  confolations  to  him. 

We  have  juft  feen,  that  the  defpair  of  the  dying  (inner, 
in  viewing  what  pafles  around  him,  is  occafioned  by  his 
furprifes,  his  feparations,  his  changes;  thefe  are  precifely 
the  fources  of  confolation  to  the  faithful  foul  in  this  laft 
moment.  Nothing  furprifes  him :  He  is  feparated  from 
nothing  :  In  his  eyes  nothing  is  changed. 

Nothing  furprifes  him. — The  hour  of  the  Lord  furprifes 
him  not ;  he  expe&ed,  he  longed  for  it*  The  thought  of 
this  laft  moment  accompanied  all  his  actions,  entered  into 
all  his  projects,  regulated  all  his  defires,  and  animated  his 
whole  condu£i  through  life.  Every  hour,  every  moment, 
feemed  to  him  the  one  which  the  upright  judge  had  ap- 
pointed for  that  dreadful  reckoning,  where  righteoufnefs 

itfelf 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C.  £97 

itfelf  mail  be  judged.  Thus  had  he  lived,  inceffantly  pre- 
paring his  foul  for  that  lad  hour.  Thus  he  expires,  tran- 
quil, confoled^  without  furprife  or  dread,  in  the  peace  of 
his  Lord  ;  death  never  approaching  nearer  to  him  than  he 
had  always  beheld  it ;  and  experiencing  no  difference  be- 
twixt the  day  of  his  death,  and  the  ordinary  ones  of  his 
life. 

Befides,  what  occafions  the  furprife  and  the  defpair  of 
the  finner  on  the  bed  of  death,  is  to  fee  that  the  world,  in 
which  he  had  ever  placed  all  his  confidence,  is  nothing,  is 
but  a  drea"m,  which  vanimes  and  is  annihilated. 

&ut  the  faithful  foul,  in  his  laft  moment;  ah!  he  fees 
the  world  in  the  fame  light  he  had  always  viewed  it  :  as  a 
(hadow  which  flitteth  away  ;  as  a  vapour  which  deceives  at 
a  diftance,  but,  when  approached,  has  neither  reality  nor 
fubftance.  He  feels  then  the  holy  joy  of  having  eftimated 
the  world  according  to  its  merit ;  of  having  judged  with 
propriety  ;  of  never  being  attached  to  what  mull  one  day 
(lip  from  him  in  a  moment ;  and  of  having  placed  his  con- 
fidence in  God  alone,  who  remaineth  for  ever,  eternally  to 
reward  thofe  who  truft  in  him. 

How  fweet  then  to  a  faithful  foul,  to  fay  to  himfelf,  I 
have  made  the  happieft  choice;  how  fortunate  for  me, 
that  I  attached  myfelf  only  to  God?  fince  he  alone  will  en- 
dure to  me  for  ever !  My  choice  was  regarded  as  a  folly ; 
the  world  laughed  it  to  fcorn,  and  found  me  whimfical  and 
Angular  in  not  conforming  myfelf  to  its  ways  :  but  now 
this  laft  moment  verifies  all.  It  is  death  that  decides  oil 
which  fide  are  the  wife  or  the  foolilh,  and  which  oi  the 
two  has  judged  aright,  the  worldly  or  the  faithful. 

Vol.  I.  O  o  Thus 


298  SI  R  M  O  N     X. 

Thus  does  the  upright  foul,  on  the  bed  of  death,  view 
the  world  and  all  its  glory.  When  the  minifters  of  the 
church  come  to  converfe  with  him  of  God,  and  the  noth- 
ingnefs  of  all  human  things,  thefe  holy  truths,  fo  new  to 
the  finner  in  that  laft  moment,  are  fubje&s  familiar  to  him, 
objects  of  which  he  had  never  loft  fight :  Thefe  confolatory 
truths  are  then  his  fweeteft  occupation  ;  he  meditates  up- 
on, he  enjoys  them,  he  draws  them  irom  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  where  they  had  always  been  cherifhed,  to  place 
them  full  in  his  view,  and  he  contemplates  them  with  joy. 
The  minifter  of  Jefus  Chrili  fpeaks  no  new  or  foreign  lan- 
guage to  him  ;  it  is  the  language  of  his  heart ;  they  are 
the  fentiments  of  his  whole  life.  Nothing  fooths  him  fo 
much  then,  as  to  hear  that  God  fpoken  of,  whom  he  had 
always  loved  ;  thofe  eternal  riches,  which  he  had  always 
coveted  ;  that  happinefs  of  another  life,  for  which  he  had 
always  fighed;  and  the  nothingnefs  of  that  world,  which 
he  had  always  defpifed.  All  other  fubje&sof  converfation 
become  infiped  to  him ;  he  can  liften  only  to  the  mercies 
of  the  God  of  his  fathers,  and  he  regrets  the  moments  as 
loft,  which  muft  necefTarily  be  devoted  to  the  regulation  of 
an  earthly  manfion,  and  the  fucceflion  of  his  anceftors. 
Great  God  !  What  knowledge  !  What  peace  !  What  deli- 
cious tranfports  !  What  holy  emotions  of  love,  of  joy,  of 
confidence,  of  thankfgiving,  then  fill  the  foul  of  this 
righteous  character !  His  faith  is  renewed  ;  his  love  is  in- 
vigorated ;  his  fervour  is  excited  ;  his  compunction  is  a- 
wakened.  The  nearer  the  difTolution  of  the  earthly  man 
approaches,  the  more  is  the  new  man  completed  and  per- 
fected! The  more  his  manfion  of  clay  crumbles,  the  more 
is  his  foul  purified  and  exalted  :  In  proportion  as  the  body 
falls  into  ruin,  the  fpirit  is  difengaged  and  renewed;  like 
a  pure  and  brilliant  flame,  which  afcends  and  fhines  forth 
with  additional  fplendour,  in  proportion  as  it  diiengages 

itfelf 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C.  299 

itfelf  from  the  remairrs  of  matter  which  held  it  down,  and 
as  the  fubftance  to  which  it  was  attached  is  confumed  and 
diflipated. 

Alas !  All  difcourfes  upon  God  fatigue  the  (inner  on  the 
bed  of  death:  They  irritate  his  evils;  his  head  fuffers  by 
them,  and  his  reft  is  difturbed  :  It  becomes  neceflary  to 
manage  his  weaknefs,  by  venturing  only  a  few  words  at 
proper  periods ;  to  do  it  with  precaution,  left  their  length 
fhould  incommode  him ;  to  chufe  the  moments  for  fpeak- 
ing  to  him  of  the  God  who  is  ready  to  judge  him,  and 
whom  he  has  never  known.  Holy  artifices  of  charity  are 
required,  nay  deception  is  even  neceflary  fometimes,  to 
make  him  beftow  a  thought  upon  his  falvation.  Even  the 
minifters  of  the  church  but  rarely  approach  him,  becaufe 
they  well  know  that  their  prefence  is  only  an  intrufion. 
They  are  excluded,  as  difagreeable  and  melancholy  pro- 
phets ;  his  friends  around  him  carefully  turn  the  converfa- 
tion  from  falvation,  as  conveying  the  news  of  death,  and  as  a 
difmal  fubjecl:  which  wearies  him ;  they  endeavour  to  enli- 
ven his  fpirits,  by  relating  the  affairs  and  vanities  of  the 
age,  which  had  engrofled  him  during  life.  Great  God! 
and  thou  permittefl  that  this  unfortunate  wretch  fhall  bear; 
even  to  death,  his  diflike  to  truth ;  that  worldly  images 
fhall  ftill  occupy  him  in  this  laft  moment ;  and  that  they 
fhall  dread  to  fpeak  to  him  of  his  God,  whom  he  has  al- 
ways dreaded  to  ferve,  and  to  know  ! 

But  let  us  not  lofe  fight  of  the  faithful  foul :  Not  only 
he  fees  nothing  on  the  bed  of  death  which  furprifes  him, 
but  he  is  likewife  feparated  from  nothing  which  he  laments 
or  regrets.  For  what  can  death  feparate  him  from,  to 
occafion  either  regret  or  tears  ?  From  the  world  ?  Alas ! 
from  a  world,  in  which  he  had  always  lived  as  an  exile; 

in- 


gOO  SERMON     X. 

in  which  he  bad  found  only   fhamefui  excefles,   which, 
grieved  his   faith ;  rocks  at    which   his  innocence   trem- 
bled ;  attentions,   which  were  troublefome  to  him ;  fubn 
jections,  which  in  fpite  of  himfelf,  ftill  divided  him   be- 
twixt heaven   and  the  earth:  We  feel  little  regret  for  the 
Iofs  of  what  we  have  never  loved.     From,  his  riches  and 
wealth  ?  Alas  !  his  treafure  was  in  heaven  :  His  riches  ha4 
been  the  riches  of  the  poor :  He  lofes  them  not ;  he  only 
goes  to  regain  them  for  ever,  in  the  bofom  of  God.     From 
his  titles  and  his  dignities  ?  Alas  !   it  is  a  yoke  from  which 
he  is  delivered  :  The  only  title  dear  to  him,  was  the  one 
he  had  received   in   baptifm,  which  he  now  bears  to  the 
prefence  of  God,  and  which  conftitutes  his  claim  to  the 
eternal  promifes.     From  his  relations  and  friends  ?  Alas  ! 
he  knows  that  he  only  precedes  them  by  a  moment ;  that 
death   cannot    feparate   thofe    whom    charity    had   joined 
upon  the  earth  ;  and    that,  foon    united   together  in  the 
bofom  of  God,  they  fhali   again  form  the  fame  church, 
and  the  fame  people,  and  fhall  enjoy  the  delights  of  an  im- 
mortal fociety.     From  his  children  ?  He  leaves  to  them  the 
Lord  as  a  father ;  his  example  and  inftruclions  as  an  in- 
heritance ;  his  good  wifhes  and  his  blefling  as  a  final  con- 
solation :  And,  Like  David,  he  expires  in  entreating  for  his 
ion  Solomon,  not  temporal  profperities,  but  a  perfeft  heart, 
love  of  the  law,  and  the   fear  of  the  God  of  his  fathers, 
prom  his  body  ?  Alas  !   from  that  body  which  he  had  al- 
ways chaftifed,  crucified;  which  he  confidered  as  his  ene- 
my ;  which  kept  him  ftill  dependent  upon  the  fenfes  and 
theflefh  ;  which  overwhelmed  him  under  the  weight  of  fo 
many  humiliating  wants  ;  from  that  houfe  of  clay,  which 
confined  him  prifoner;  which  prolonged   the  days  of  his 
banifhment  and  his  flavery,  and  retarded  his  union    with 
Jefus  Chrifl  :  Ah  !  like  St.  Paul,  he  earneftly  wifhes   its 
diffolution :  It  is  an  irkfcme  clothing,  from  which  he  is 

delivered ; 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C  3OI 

delivered ;  it  is  a  wall  of  reparation  from  his  God,  which 
is  defiroyed ;  and  which  now  leaves  him  free,  and  qualifi- 
ed to  make  his  flight  towards  the  eternal  mountains.  Thus 
death  feparates  him  from  nothing,  bccaufe  faith  had  already 
feparated  him  from  all. 

I  do  not  add,  that  the  changes  which  take  place  on  the 
bed  of  death,  fo  full  of  defpair  to  the  (inner,  change  no- 
thing in  the  faithful  foul.  His  reafon,  it  is  true,  decays  ;  hut 
for  a  long  time  part,  he  had  fubjefted  it  to  the  yoke  of 
faith,  and  extinguifhed  its  vain  lights  before  the  light  of 
God,  and  the  profundity  of  his  myfteries.  His  expiring 
eyes  become  darkened,  and  are  clofed  upon  all  vifible  ob- 
jects ;  but  long  ago  they  had  been  fixed  on  the  invifible  alone. 
His  tongue  is  immoveable  ;  but  he  had  long  before  planted 
the  guard  of  cireumfpecHon  on  it,  and  meditated  in 
filence  the  mercies  of  the  God  of  his  fathers.  All  his 
fenfes  are  blunted,  and  lofe  their  natural  ufe ;  but  for  a 
Jong  time  paft,  he  had  himfelf  interdicted  their  influence. 
He  had  eyes,  and  fawnot ;  ears,  and  heard  not ;  tafte,  and 
relifhed  only  the  things  of  heaven.  Nothing  is  changed, 
therefore,  to  this  foul,  on  the  bed  of  death.  His  body  falls 
in  pieces;  all  created  beings  vanifh  from  his  eyes;  light 
retires  ;  all  nature  returns  to  nothing;  and,  in  the  midit 
of  all  thefe  changes,  he  alone  changeth  not ;  he  alone  is  al- 
ways the  fame. 

How  grand,  my  brethren,  does  faith  render  the  righteous 
on  the  bed  of  death  !  How  worthy  of  God,  of  angels, 
and  of  men,  is  the  fight  of  the  upright  foul  in  that  laft 
moment !  It  is  then  that  the  faithful  heart  appears  mailer  of 
the  world,  and  of  all  the  created ;  it  is  then,  that  participating 
already  in  the  greatnefs  and  the  immutability  of  the  God 
to  whom  he  is  on  the  eve  of  being  united,  he  is  elevated 

above 


goa  SERMON     X. 

above  all ;  in  the  world,  without  any  connexion  with  it ;- 
in  a  mortal  body,  without  being  chained  to  it ;  in  the  midft. 
of  his  relations  and  friends,  without  feeing  or  knowing 
them ;  in  the  midft  of  the  embarrafTments  and  changes 
which  his  death  opens  to  his  fight,  without  the  fmalleft  in- 
terruption to  his  tranquillity  :  He  is  already  fixed  in  the 
bofom  of  God,  in  the  midft  of  the  deftruclion  of  all  things. 
Once  more,  my  brethren,  how  grand  it  is  to  have  lived 
in  the  obfervance  of  the  law  of  the  Lord,  and  to  die  in 
his  fear !  With  what  dignity  does  not  faith  then  difplay 
itfelf  in  the  righteous  foul  ?  It  is  the  moment  of  his  glory 
and  triumph ;  it  is  the  centre  at  which  the  whole  luftre  of 
his  life  and  of  his  virtues  unite. 

How  beautiful  to  lee  the  righteous  man,  then  moving 
with  a  tranquil  and  majeftic  peace  towards  eternity  !  And 
with  reafon  did  the  falfe  Prophet  cry  out,  when  he  faw  the 
triumphal  march  of  the  Ifraelites  entering  into  the  land  ot 
Promife,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 
*•  my  end  be  like  his."     Numbers  xxiii.   10. 

And  behold,  my  brethren,  what  completely  fills  with 
joy  and  confolation  the  faithful  foul  on  the  bed  of  death  : 
It  is  the  thought  of  futurity.  The  finner,  during  health, 
looks  forward  to  a  future  flate  with  a  tranquil  eye;  but  in 
this  laft  moment,  beholding  its  approach,  his  tranquillity 
is  changed  into  fhudderings  and  terror.  The  upright  man, 
on  the  contrary,  during  the  days  of  his  mortal  life,  durft 
never  regard,  with  a  fixed  eye,  the  depth  and  the  extent 
of  God's  judgments  :  He  wrought  out  his  falvation  with 
fear  and  trembling ;  he  fhuddered  at  the  very  thought  ot 
that  dreadful  futurity,  where  even  the  juft,  if  judged 
without  mercy,  fhall  hardly  be  faved  :  But,  on  the  bed  of 
death,  ah  !  The  God  of  Peace  who  difplays  himfelf  to  him, 

ealms 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,    &C  303 

calms. his  agitations;  his  fears  immediately  ceafe,  and  are 
changed  into  a  fweet  hope.  He  already  pierces,  with  ex- 
piring eyes,  through  that  cloud  of  mortality  which  ftill 
furrounds  him,  and  fees  the  throne  of  glory,  and  the  Son 
of  Man  at  his  Father's  right  hand,  ready  to  receive  him ; 
that  immortal  country,  for  which  he  had  longed  fo  much, 
and  upon  which  his  mind  had  always  dwelt ;  that  Holy 
Zion,  which  the  God  of  his  fathers  filleth  with  his  glory 
and  his  prefence ;  where  he  overfloweth  the  elecl;  with  a 
torrent  of  delights,  and  maketh  them  for  ever  to  enjoy  the 
incomprehenfible  riches  which  he  hath  prepared  for  thofe 
who  love  him  ;  that  city  of  the  people  of  God,  the  refi- 
dence  of  the  faints,  the  habitation  of  the  juft,  and  of  the 
Prophets,  where  he  fhall  again  find  his  brethren,  with 
whom  charity  had  united  him  on  the  earth,  and  with  whom 
he  will  blefs  eternally  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Lord,  and 
join  with  them  in  halelujahs  to  his  praife. 

.  Ah  !  when  alfo  the  minifters  of  the  church  come  to  an- 
nounce, to  this  foul,  that  the  hour  is  come,  and  that  eter- 
nity approaches  ;  when  they  come  to  tell  him,  in  the  name 
of  the  Church,  which  fends  them  :  *'  Depart,  Chriftian 
"  foul  :  Quit  at  laft  that  earth,  where  you  have  fo  long 
"  been  a  ftranger  and  a  captive :  The  time  ot  trial  and 
"  tribulation  is  over  :  Behold,  at  laft,  the  upright  Judge, 
44  who  comes  to  ftrike  off  the  chains  of  your  mortality  : 
44  Return  to  the  bofom  of  God,  from  whence  you  came  : 
44  Quit  now  a  world,  which  was  unworthy  oi  you  :  The 
44  Almighty  hath  at  laft  been  touched  with  your  tears  :  He 
"  at  laft  openeth  to  you  the  gate  of  eternity,  the  gate  of 
"the  upright:  Depart  faithful  foul;  Go,  and  unite  thy- 
44  felf  to  the  Heavenly  Church,  which  expe&s  thee  :  On- 
44  ly  remember  your  brethren,  whom  you  leave  upon  the 
"earth,  ftill  expofed  to  temptations  and  to    ftorms :  Be 

41  touched 


304  SERMON      X. 

44  touched  with  the  melancholy  ftate  of  the  Church,  here 
"  below,  which  has  given  you  birth  in  Jefus  Chrift,  and 
44  which  envies  your  departure  :  Entreat  the  end  of  her 
"  captivity,  and  her  re-union  with  her  fpoufe,  from  whom 
44  (he  is  ftill  feparated.  Thofe  who  fleep  in  the  Lord,  pe- 
«4  rifli  not  for  ever  :  We  only  quit  you  on  the  earth,  in  or- 
"  der  to  regain  you  in  a  little  time  with  Jefus  Chrift,  in 
44  the  kingdom  of  the  Holy  :  The  body,  which  you  are 
44  on  the  point  of  leaving  a  prey  to  worms  and  to  putrefac* 
**  tion,  fhall  foon  follow  you,  immortal  and  glorious.  Not 
"  a  hair  of  your  head  fhall  perifli.  There  fhall  remain  in 
44  your  afhes,  a  feed  of  immortality,  even  to  the  day  of 
44  revelation,  when  your  parched  bones  fhall  be  vivified, 
44  and  again  appear  more  refplendent  than  light  :  What 
"  happinefs  for  you,  to  be  at  laft  quit  of  all  the  miferies 
"  which  flill  afflict  us,  to  be  no  longer  expofed,  like  your 
"  brethren,  to  lofe  that  God,  whom  you  go  to  enjoy;  to 
44  fhut  your  eyes,  at  laft,  on  all  the  fcandals  which  grieve 
"  us  ;  on  that  vanity,  which  feduces  us  ;  on  thofe  exam- 
44  pies,  which  lead  us  affray  ;  on  thofe  attachments,  which 
44  engrofs  us  ;  and  on  thofe  troubles,  which  confume  us  ! 
44  What  happinefs,  to  quit  at  laft  a  place,  where  every 
44  thing  tires,  and  every  thing  fullies  us  ;  where  we  are  a 
44  burden  to  ourfelves,  and  where  we -only  exift,  in  order 
44  to  be  unhappy  ;  and  to  go  to  a  refidence  of  peace,  of 
54  joy,  of  quiet,  where  our  only  occupation  will  be  to  en- 
44  joy  the  God  whom  we  love." 

What  blefTed  tidings,  then,  of  joy  and  immortality,  to 
this  righteous  foul !  What  blefTed  arrangement !  With 
what  peace,  what  confidence,  what  thankfgivings,  does 
he  not  accept  !  He  raifes,  like  old  Simeon,  his  dying  eyes 
to  heaven  ;  and  viewing  the  Lord,  who  cometh  inwardly, 
fays  to  him,    "  Break,  O   my  God,  when  thou  pleafeft, 

44  thefe 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  SINNER,   &C  305 

•■  thefe  remains  of  mortality ;  thefe  feeble  ties,'  which 
**  ftill  keep  me  here  :  I  wait,  in  peace  and  in  hope  the  ef- 
««  feels  of  thine  eternal  promifes."  Thus  purified  by  the 
expiation  of  an  holy  and  Chriftian  life,  fortified  by  the 
laft  remedies  of  the  Church,  warned  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,  fupported  by  the  hope  of  the  promifes,  and  ripe 
for  eternity,  he  fhuts  his  eyes  with  an  holy  joy  on  all  fub- 
lunary  creatures  :  He  tranquilly  goes  to  fleep  in  the  Lord, 
and  returns  to  the  bofom  of  that  God  from  whence  h« 
came. 

My  brethren,  any  obfervations  here  would  be  ufelefsu 
Such  is  the  end  of  thofe  who  have  lived  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  :  Their  death  is  precious  before  God,  like  their  life. 
Such  is  the  deplorable  end  of  thofe,  who  have  negle&ed 
him  to  that  laft  hour  :  The  death  of  a  (inner  is  abominable 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  equally  as  their  life.  If  you  live 
in  fin,  you  will  die  in  all  the  horrors,  aiid  in  all  the  ufelefs 
regrets  of  the  finner,  and  your  death  fhall  be  an  eternal 
death.  If  you  live  in  righteoufnefs,  you  will  die  in  peace, 
and  in  the  confidence  of  the  juft,  and  your  death  will  be 
only  a  pafTage  to  a  bleffed  immortality. 

Now,  to  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghoft,  be  all  honour  and  glory,  now,  henceforth, 
and  for  evermore.     Amen. 

Vol.  L  P  d  SERMON 


SERMON  XL 

ON  CHARITY. 


John  vi.  11. 

And  Jefus  took  the  loaves,  and,  when  he  had  given 
thanks,  he  diftribuied  to  the  difciples,  and  the  difciples 
to  them  that  were  fet  down. 

JLt  is  not  without  defign  that  our  Saviour  afTociates  the 
difciples,  in  the  prodigy  of  multiplying  the  loaves,  and 
that  he  makes  ufe  of  their  miniftry  in  diftributing  the  mira- 
culous food  among  a  people  pre  fled  with  hunger  and  Want, 
He  might,  again,  no  doubt,  have  made  manna  to  rain  upon 
the  defert,  and  faved  to  his  difciples  the  trouble  of  fo  pain- 
ful a  diftribution. 

But,  might  he  not,  alfo,  after  raifing  up  Lazarus  from 
the  dead,  difpenfed  with  their  afliftance  in  unloofing  him  ? 
Could  his  Almighty  voice,  which  had  juft  broken  afunder 
the  chains  of  death,  have  found  any  refiftance  from  the 
feeble  bands  which  the  hand  of  man  had  formed  ?  It  is  be- 
caufe  he  wiftied  to  point  out  to  them  beforehand  the  facred 
exercife  of  their  miniftry  ;  the  part  they  were  afterwards  to 
have  in  the  fpiritual  refurre&ion  of  finners  ;  and  that  what- 
ever theyfhould  unloofe  upon  the  earth  fhould  beunloofed 
in  heaven. 

*  AgainT 


ON  CHARITY. 


3°7 


Again,  when  there  was  queftion  of  paying  tribute  to 
Cefar,  he  might  have  avoided  the  fnare  of  Peter,  by  pro- 
ducing a  piece  of  money  out  of  the  bowels  of  a  fifh :  He 
who,  even  from  ftones,  was  able  to  raife  up  children  of 
Abraham,  might  furely  with  greater  eafe  have  converted 
them  into  a  precious  metal,  and  thereby  furnifhed  the 
amount  of  the  tribute  due  to  Cefar  :  But,  in  the  cha- 
racter of  Head  of  the  Church,  he  meant  to  teach  his  mi* 
nifters  to  refpeft  thofe  in  authority  ;  and,  by  rendering 
honour  and  tribute  to  the  powers  eftablifhed  by  God,  to  {ct 
an  example  of  fubmifjion  to  other  believers. 

Thus,  in  making  ufe,  upon  this  occafion,  of  the  inter- 
vention of  the  apoftjes  to  diftribute  the  loaves  to  the  mul- 
titude, his  defign  is,  to  accuftom  all  his  difciples  to  com- 
panion and  liberality  towards  the  unfortunate :  He  efta- 
blifhes  you  the  minifters  of  his  providence,  and  multiplies 
the  riches  of  the  earth  in  your  hands,  for  the  fole  purpofe 
of  being  diftributed  from  thence  among  that  multitude  of 
unfortunate  fellow-creatures  which  furrounds  you.  He, 
do  doubt,  might  nourifh  them  himfelf,  as  he  formerly  nou- 
rifhed  Paul  and  Elijah  in  the  defert ;  without  your  inter- 
ference he  might  comfort  thofe  creatures  which  bear  his 
image  ;  he,  whofe  invifible  hand  prepares  food  even  for  the 
young  ravens  which  invoke  him  in  their  want  ;  but  he 
wifhes  to  afTociate  you  in  the  merit  of  his  liberality  ;  he 
wifhes  you  to  be  placed  betwixt  himfelf  and  the  poorr  like 
refrefhing  clouds,  always  ready  to  fhower  upon  them  thofe 
fruftifying  flreams  which  you  have  only  received  for  their 
advantage. 

Such  is  the  order  of  his  providence  ;  it  was  neeeffaiy 
that  means  of  falvation  mould  be  provided  for  all  men  : 
riches  would  corrupt  the   heart,  if  charity   were  not  to 

expiate 


308  SERMON     XI. 

expiate  their  abufe  ;  indigence  would  fatigue  and  wea- 
ry out  virtue,  if  the  fuccours  of  companion  were  not 
to  foften  its  bitternefs  ;  the  poor  facilitate  to  the  rich 
the  pardon  of  their  pleafures  ;  the  rich  animate  the  poor  not 
to  lofe  the  merit  of  their  fufFerings. 

Apply  yourfelf,  then,  be  whom  you  may,  to  all  the  con- 
fequence  of  this  gofpel.  If  you  groan  under  the  yoke  ot 
poverty,  the  tendernefs  and  the  care  of  Jefus  Chrift  to- 
wards all  the  wants  of  a  wandering  and  unprovided  people 
will  confole  you  :  If  born  to  opulence,  the  example  of 
the  difciples  will  now  inftruft  you.  You  will  there  fee, 
i/?/y,  The  pretexts  which  they  oppofe  to  the  duty  of  cha- 
rity confuted  :  zdly,  You  will  learn  what  ought  to  be  its 
rules.  That  is  to  fay,  that  in  the  firft  part  of  this  difcourfe 
we  mail  eftablifh  this  duty  againft  all  the  vain  excufes  of 
avarice  ;  in  the  fecond  we  fhall  inftruft  you  in  the  manner 
of  fulfilling  it  againft  even  the  defe&s  of  charity ;  it  is  the 
moft  natural  inftruction  with  which  the  hiflory  of  the  gof- 
pel prefents  us. 

Part  I. — It  is  fcarcely  a  matter  of  controverfy  now  in 
the  world,  whether  the  law  ot  God  make  a  precept  to  us 
of  charity  :  The  gofpel  is  fo  pointed  on  this  duty ;  the 
fpirit  and  the  ground-work  of  religion  lead  us  fo  naturally 
to  it  ;  the  idea  alone  which  we  have  of  Providence,  in  the 
difpenfation  of  temporal  things,  leaves  fo  little  room  on 
that  point  to  opinion  or  doubt,  that,  though  many  be  ig- 
norant of  the  extent  of  this  obligation,  yet  there  are  al- 
moft  none  who  do  not  admit  ot  the  foundation  and  prin- 
ciple. 

Who,  indeed,  is  ignorant  that  the  Lord,  whofe  provi- 
dence hath  regulated  all  things  with  an  order  fo  admirable 

and 


ON    CHARITY. 


3°9 


and  beautiful,  and  prepared  food  even  for  the  beads  of  the 
field,  would  never  have  left  men,  created  after  his  own  image, 
a  prey  to  hunger  and  indigence,  whilft  he  would  liberally 
fhower  upon  a  fmall  number  of  happy  individuals  the  blef- 
fings  of  heaven  and  the  fat  of  the  earth,  if  he  had  not  in- 
tended that  the  abundance  of  the  one  fhould  fupply  the 
neceflities  of  the  other  ? 

Who  is  ignorant  that  originally  every  thing  belonged  in 
common  to  all  men  ;  that  fimple  nature  knew  neither  pro- 
perty nor  portions  ;  and  that,  at  firft,  fhe  left  each  of  us 
in  pefleflion  of  the  univerfe  ?  But  that  in  order  to  put 
bounds  to  avarice,  and  to  avoid  trouble  and  diflenOons, 
the  common  confent  of  the  people  eftablifhed  that  the  wif- 
eft,  the  moll  humane,  and  the  moft  upright,  fhould  like- 
wife  be  the  moft  opulent ;  that  befides  the  portion  of  wealth 
deftined  to  them  by  nature,  they  fhould  alfo  be  charged 
with  that  of  the  weakeff,  to  be  its  depofitaries,  and  to  de- 
fend it  againft  ufurpation  and  violence  :  confequently, 
that  they  were  eftablifhed  by  nature  itfelf  as  the  guardians 
of  the  unfortunate,  and  that  whatever  furplus  they  had  was 
only  the  patrimony  of  their  brethren  confided  to  their  care 
and  their  equity  ? 

Who,  laftly,  is  ignorant  that  the  ties  of  religion  have 
ftill  more  firmly  cemented  the  firft  bonds  of  union  which 
nature  had  formed  among  men  ;  that  the  grace  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  which  brought  forth  the  firft  believers,  made  of 
them  not  only  one  heart  and  one  foul,  but  alfo  one  family, 
where  the  idea  of  individual  property  was  exploded  ;  and 
that  the  gofpel,  making  it  a  law  to  us  to  love  our  brethren 
as  ourfelves,  no  longer  permits  us  to  be  ignorant  of  their 
wants,  or  to  be  infenfible  to  their  forrows  ? 


But 


8io 


SERMON    XL 


But  it  is  with  the  duty  of  charity  as  with  all  the  other 
duties  of  the  law;  in  general,  the  obligation  is  not,  even 
in  idea,  denied  ;  but,  does  the  circumftance  of  its  fulfil- 
ment take  place  ?  A  pretext  is  never  wanting,  either  tq 
difpenfe  with  it  entirely,  or  at  leaft  to  be  quit  for  a  moiety 
of  the  duty.  Now,  it  would  appear  that  the  fpirit  of  God 
hath  meant  to  point  out  to  us  all  thefe  pretexts,  in  the  an- 
fwers  which  the  difciples  made  to  Jefus  Chrift  in  order  to 
excule  themfelves  from  aflifting  the  familhed  multitude 
which  had  followed  him  to  the  defert. 

In  the  firfl  place,  they  remind  him,  that  they  had  fcarcely 
wherewithal  to  fupply  their  own  wants  ;  and  that  only  five 
loaves  of  barley,  and  two  fifties  remained  :  behold  the  firft 
pretext,  made  ufe  of  by  covetoufnefs,  in  oppofition  to  the 
duty  of  companion.  Scarcely  have  they  fufficient  for 
themfelves ;  they  have  a  name  and  a  rank  to  fupport  in  the 
world  ;  children  to  eftablifh  ;  creditors  to  fatisfy  ;  public 
charges  to  fupport ;  a  thoufand  expences  of  pure  bene- 
volence, to  which  attention  muftbepaid;  now,  what  is 
any  income,  not  entirely  unlimited,  to  fuch  endlefs  de- 
mands ?  in  this  manner,  the  world  continually  fpeaks ;  and 
a  world  the  moft  brilliant,  and  the  moft  fumptuous. 

Now,  I  well  know,  that  the  limits  of  what  is  called  a 
fufficiency,  are  not  the  fame  for  all  ftations ;  that  they  ex- 
tend in  proportion  to  rank  and  birth ;  that  one  ftar,  fays  the 
apoftle,  muft  differ  in  luftre  from  another;  that,  even 
from  the  apoftolic  ages,  men  were  feen  in  the  afTemblies  of 
believers,  clothed  in  robes  of  diftin&ion,  with  rings  of 
gold,  while  others,  of  a  more  obfcure  ftation,  were  forced 
to  content  themfelves  with  the  apparel  neceftary  to  cover 
their  nakednefs  ;  that,  confequently,  religion  doth  not  con- 
found ftations ;  and  that,  if  it  forbid  thofe  who  dwell  in 

the 


ON   CHAIUTY. 


3«* 


the  palaces  of  kings  to  be  effeminate  in  their  manners,  and 
indecently  luxurious  in  their  drefs,  it  doth  not  at  the  fame 
time  prefcribe  to  them  the  poverty,  and  the  fimplicity  of 
thofe  who  dwell  in  cottages,  or  of  thofe  who  form  the 
lower  ranks  of  the  people  :  I  know  it. 

But,  my  brethren,  it  is  an  inconteftible  truth,  that, 
whatever  furplus  you  may  have,  belongs  not  to  you  ;  that 
it  is  the  portion  of  the  poor,  and,  that  you  are  entitled  to 
cbnfider  as  your  own  only  that  proportion  of  your  revenues 
which  is  neceflary  to  fupport  that  ftation  in  which  Provi- 
dence hath  placed  you.  I  afk,  then,  is  it  the  gofpel,  or 
covetoufnefs,  which  muft  regulate  that  fufficiency  ?  Would 
you  dare  to  pretend,  that  all  thofe  vanities,  of  which  cuf- 
tom  has  now  made  a  law,  are  to  be  held  in  the  fight  of 
God,  as  expences  infeparable  from  your  condition  ?  That 
every  thing  which  flatters,  and  is  agreeable  to  you,  which 
nourifhes  your  pride,  gratifies  your  caprices,  and  corrupts 
your  heart,  is  for  that  reafon  neceffary  to  you  ?  That  all 
which  you  facrifice  to  the  fortune  of  a  child,  in  order  to 
raife  him  above  his  anceftors ;  all  which  you  rifk  in  gaming ; 
that  luxury,  which  either  fuits  not  your  birth,  or  is  an 
abufe  of  it :  would  you  dare  to  pretend,  that  all  thefe  have 
inconteftible  claims  on  your  revenues,  which  are  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  thofe  of  charity  ?  Laftly,  Would  you  dare  to 
pretend,  that,  becaufe  your  father,  perhaps  obfcure,  and 
of  the  loweft  rank,  may  have  left  to  you  all  his  wealth,  and 
perhaps  his  crimes,  you  are  entitled  to  forget  your  family, 
and  the  houfe  of  your  father,  in  order  to  mingle  with  the 
higheft  ranks,  and  to  fupport  the  fame  eclat,  becaufe,  you 
are  enabled  to  fupport  the  fame  expence  ? 

If  this  be  the  cafe,  my  brethren,  if  you  confider  as  a 
furplus  only,  that  which  may  efcape  from  your  pleafure, 

from 


312 


SERMON     XI, 


from  your  extravagancies,  and  from  your  caprices,  yon 
have  only  to  be  voluptuous,  capricious,  difTolute  and 
prodigal,  in  order  to  be  wholly  difpenfed  from  the  duty 
of  charity.  The  more  paflions  you  fhall  have  to  fatisfy, 
the  more  will  your  obligation  to  charity  diminifh  ;  and 
your  exceffes,  which  the  Lord  hath  commanded  you 
to  expiate  by  a&s  of  compaflion,  will  themfelves  become 
a  privilege  to  difpenfe  yourfelves  from  them.  There  muft 
neceflarily,  therefore,  be  fome  rule  here  to  obferve,  and 
fome  limits  to  appoint  ourfelves,  different  from  thofe  of 
avarice :  and  behold  it,  my  brethren,  the  rule  of  faith. 
Whatever  tends  to  nourifh  only  the  life  of  the  fenfes,  to 
flatter  the  paflions,  to  countenance  the  vain  pomp  and 
abufes  of  the  world,  is  fuperfluous  to  a  Chriftian  ;  thefe 
are  what  you  ought  to  retrench,  and  to  fet  apart ;  thefe  are 
the  funds  and  the  heritage  of  the  poor ;  you  are  only  their 
depofitarics,  and  you  cannot  encroach  upon  them,  without 
ufurpation  and  injuftice.  The  gofpel  reduces  to  very  little 
the  fufBciency  of  a  Chriftian,  however  exalted  in  the  world  ; 
religion,  retrenches  much  from  the  expences  ;  and  did  we 
live  all  according  to  the  rules  of  faith,  our  wants,  which 
would  no  longer  be  multiplied  by  our  paflions,  would  ft  ill 
be  fewer  :  the  greateft  part  of  our  wealth,  would  be  found 
entirely  ufelefs  ;  and  as  in  the  firft  age  of  faith,  indigence 
would  no  longer  grieve  the  church,  nor  be  feen  among 
believers.  Our  expences  continually  increafe,  becaufe 
our  paflions  are  every  day  multiplied ;  the  opulence  of 
our  fathers  is  no  longer  to  us  but  an  uncomfortable  pov- 
erty ;  and  our  great  riches  can  no  longer  fuflice,  be- 
caufe nothing  can  fatisfy  thofe  who  refufe  themfelves 
nothing. 

And  in  order  to  give  this  truth  all  the  extent  which  the 
fubjeft  in  queft ion  demands,  I  a(k  you,  2.dly>  Do  the  ele- 
vation 


ON  CHARITY.  313 

vation  and  abundance  in  which  you  are  born  difpenfe  you 
from  fimplicity,  frugality,  modefty,  and  holy  reftraint  : 
By  being  born  great,  you  are  not  the  lefs  Chriftians.  In 
vain,  like  thofe  Ifraelites  inthedefert,  have  you  amaffed 
more  manna  than  your  brethren  ;  you  cannot  preferve  for 
your  ufe  more  than  the  meafure  prefcribed  by  the  law. 
Were  it  not  lo,  our  Saviour  would  have  forbidden  pomp, 
luxury,  and  worldly  pleafures,  but  to  the  poor  and  unfor- 
tunate ;  thofe  to  whom  the  mifery  of  their  condition  ren- 
ders needlefs  that  defence. 

Now,  this  grand  truth  admitted  ;  if,  according  to  the 
rule  of  faith  it  be  not  permitted  to  you,  to  employ  your 
riches  in  the  gratification  of  your  appetites  ;  if  the  rich  be 
obliged  to  bear  the  crofs,  continually  to  renounce  them- 
felves,  and  to  look  for  no  confolation  in  this  world,  equal- 
ly as  the  poor;  what  can  the  defign  of  Providence  have 
been,  in  pouring  upon  you  all  the  riches  of  the  earth  ? 
And,  what  advantage  could  even  accrue  to  you,  from  them  ? 
Could  it  be  in  order  to  adminifter  to  your  irregular  defires  ? 
But,  you  are  no  longer  bound  to  theflefh,  to  live  according 
to  the  flefh.  Could  it  be  in  order  to  fupport  the  pride  of 
rank  and  birth  ?  But,  whatever  vou  give  to  vanity,  you 
cut  off  from  charity.  Could  it  be  for  the  purpofe  of  hoard- 
ing up  for  your  polterity  ?  But  your  treafure  fhould  be  on- 
ly in  heaven.  Could  it  be  in  order  that  you  might  pafs 
your  life  more  agreeably  ?  But  if  you  weep  not,  if  you 
fufFer  not,  if  you  combat  not,  you  are  loft.  Could  it  be 
in  order  to  attach  you  more  ftrongly  to  the  world  ?  But 
the  Chriitian  is  not  of  this  world  :  he  is  a  citizen  of  the 
age  to  come.  Could  it  be  for  the  purpofe  of  aggrandif- 
ing  your  poflefTions  and  your  inheritances?  But,  you 
would  never  aggrandife  but  the  place  of  your  exile;  and 
the  gain  of  the  whole  world  would  be  vain,  if  you  there- 

Vol.  I.  O  q  by 


3l4  S  E  R  M  O  N     XI. 

by  loft  your  foul.  Could  it  be  that  your  table  might  b& 
loaded  with  the  moll  exquifite  difhes  ?  Bat,  you  well  knoW, 
that  the  gofpel  forbids  a  life  of  fenfuality  and  voluptuouf- 
nefs,  equally  to  the  rich,  as  to  the  indigent.  Review  all 
the  advantages,  which  according  to  the  world,  you  cari 
reap  from  your  profperity,  and  you  will  find  almoft  thfe 
whole  of  them  forbidden  by  the  law  of  God. 

It  has   not,  thereiore,  been  his  defign,  that  they  mould 
be  merely  for  your  own   purpofes,  when  he  multiplied  in 
your  hands  the   riches  of  the  earth.     It  is  not  for  yourfelf 
that  you  are  born  to  grandeur ;  it  is  not  for  yourfelf,  as 
Mordecai  formerly  faid  to  the  pious  Efther,  that  the  Lord 
hath  exalted  you  to  this  point  of  profperity  and  grandeur ; 
it  is  for  the  fake  of  his  afTIi&ed  people  ;  it  is  to  be  the  pro- 
tector of  the  unfortunate.     If  you  fulfil  not  the  intentions 
of  God,  with  regard  to  you,  continued  that  wife  Ifraelite, 
he  will  employ  fome  other,  who  fhall  more  faithfully  ferve 
him  ;  he  will  transfer  to  them  that  crown  which   was  in- 
tended for  you  ;  he  will  elfewhere  provide  the  enlargement 
and  deliverance  of  his  afflicted  people  ;  for  he  will  not  per- 
mit them  to  perilh  ;  but  you  and  your  father's  houfe  fhall 
perifh.     In  the  defigns  of  the  Almighty,  you  therefore  are 
but  the  minifters  of  his  providence,  towards  thofe  who  fuf- 
fer ;  your  great  riches  are  only  facred  depofits,  which  his 
goodnefs  hath  cntrufted  to   your  care,  for  fecurify  againft 
ufurpation  and  violence,  and  in  order  to  be  more  fafely 
preferved  for  the  widow  and  the  orphan  :  your  abundance, 
in  the  order  of  his  wifdom,  is  deftined  only  to  fupply  their 
neceflities ;   your  authority,  only  to  protect   them  ;  your 
dignities,  only  to  avenge  their  interefts ;  your  rank  only 
to  confole  them  by  your  good  offices  ;  whatfoever  you  be, 
you  are  it  only  for  them;  your  elevation,  would  no  longer  be 
the  work  of  God,  and  he  would  have  curfed  you,  in  be- 

ftowing 


ON  CHARITY.  31$ 

1 

flowing  on  you  all  the  riches  of  the  earth,  had  he  given 
them  to  you  for  any  other  ufe. 

Ah  !  alledge  then  no  more  to  us,  as  an  excufe  for  your 
hardheartednefs  towards  your  brethren,  wants  which  are 
condemned  by  the  law  of  God;  rather  juftify  his  provi- 
dence towards  all  who  fuffer ;  by  entering  into  his  order, 
Jet  them  know,  that  there  is  a  God  for  them,  as  well  as  for 
you  ;  and  make  them  blefs  the  adorable  defigns  of  his  wif- 
dom,  in  the  difpenfation  of  earthly  things,  which  hath  fup- 
plied  them  through  your  abundance,  with  fuch  refources 
of  confolation. 

But,  befides,  what  can  the  fmall  contributions  required 
from  you  retrench  from  thofe  wants,  the  urgency  of  which 
you  tell  us  h  much,  ?  The  Lord  exa&eth  not  from  you 
any  part  of  your  pofleflTjons  and  heritages,  though  they  be- 
long wholly  to  him,  and  he  hath  aright  to  defpoil  you  of 
them.  He  leaveth  you  tranquil  pofTeMbrs,  of  thofe  lands, 
of  thofe  palaces,  which  ^iflinguifh  you  in  your  people, 
and  with  which  the  piety  of  your  anceftors  formerly  en- 
riched our  temples :  He  doth  not  command  iyou,  like  the 
young  man  of  die  gpfp.el,  to  renounce  all,  to  diftribute 
your  whole  wealth  among  the  poor,  and  to  follow  him  : 
Hemaketh  it  not  a  law  to  you,  as  formerly  to  the  firfl  be- 
lievers, to  bring  all  your  riches  to  the  het  of  your  paf- 
tors  :  He  doth  not  ftrike  you  with  anathema,  as  formerly 
Ananias  and  Saphira,  for  daring  to  retain  only  a  portion  of 
that  wealth  which  they  had  received  from  their  anceftors  ; 
you,  who  only  owe  the  aggrandifement  of  fortunes  per- 
haps to  public  calamities,  or  other  ftiameful  means  of  ac- 
quirement :  He  confenteth,  that,  as  the  prophet  fays,  you 
fliall  call  the  Jand  by  your  name;  and  that  you  tranfmit  to 
your  poftcrity  thofe  pofTeffions  which  you  have  inherited 

from 


3*6  SERMON     XI. 

from  your  anceftors :  He  wifheth,  that  you  lay  apart,  only 
a  portion  for  the  unfortunate,  whom  he  leaveth  in  indi- 
gence :  He  wifheth,  that  while  in  the  luxury  and  fplendour 
of  your  apparel,  you  bear  the  nourifhment  of  a  whole  peo- 
ple of  unfortunate  fellow-creatures,  you  have  wherewith  to 
cover  the  nakednefs  of  his  fervants,  who  languifh  in  po- 
verty, and  know  not  where  to  repofe  their  head  :  He  wifh- 
eth, that  from  thofe  tables  of  voluptuoufnefs,  where  your 
great  riches  are  fcarcely  fufficient  to  fupply  your  fenfuality, 
and  the  profufions  of  an  extravagant  delicacy,  you  drop 
at  leaft  a  portion,  for  the  relief  of  the  Lazarufes  preffed 
with  hunger  and  want  :  He  wifheth  that,  while  paintings 
of  the  moll  abfurd  and  the  moft  boundlefs  price  are  feen  to 
cover  the  walls  of  your  palaces,  your  revenues  may  fuf- 
fice  to  honour  the  living  images  of  your  God :  He  wifh- 
eth, in  a  word,  that,  while  nothing  is  fpared  towards  the 
gratification  of  an  inordinate  paflion  for  gaming,  and  eve- 
ry thing  is  on  the  verge  of  being  for  ever  fwallowed  up  in 
that  gulph,  you  come  not  to  calculate  your  expences,  to 
meafure  your  ability,  toalledge  to  us  the  mediocrity  of  your 
fortune,  and  the  embarrafTment  of  your  affairs,  when  there 
is  queftion  of  confoling  an  afflicted  Chriflian.  He  wifh- 
eth it ;  and  with  reafon  doth  he  not  wifh  it  ?  What !  You 
fhall  be  rich  for  evil,  and  poor  for  good  !  Your  revenues 
fhall  be  amply  fufficient  to  effect  your  deftru£lion,  and  they 
fhall  not  fuffice  to  fave  your  foul  and  to  purchafe  heaven  ? 
And,  becaufeyou  carry  felf-love  to  the  extreme,  every  bar- 
barity of  heart  mould  be  permitted  you  towards  your  un- 
fortunate brethren  ? 

But,  whence  comes  it  that,  in  this  fingle  circumflance, 
you  wifh  to  lower  the  opinion  that  the  world  has  of  your 
riches  ?  On  every  other  occafion  you  wifh  to  be  thought 
powerful ;  you  give  yourfelves   out  as   fuch  ;  you  even 

frequently 


ON  CHARITY. 


317 


frequently  conceal,  under  appearances  ot  the  greateft 
fplendour,  affairs  already  ruined,  merely  to  fupport  the 
vain  reputation  ot"  wealth.  This  vanity,  then,  does  not 
abandon  you  but  when  you  are  put  in  remembrance  of  the 
duty  of  compaffion ;  not  fatisfied,  then,  with  confefling 
the  mediocrity  of  your  fortune,  you  exaggerate  it,  and 
fordidnefs  triumphs  in  your  heart,  not  only  over  truth,  but 
even  over  vanity.  Ah!  the  Lord  formerly  reproached  to 
the  angel  of  the  church  of  Sardis,  "  Becaufe  thou  fayeft, 
"  I  am  rich,  and  increafed  with  goods,  and  have  need  of 
•*  nothing ;  and  knoweft  not  that  in  my  fight  thou  art 
"  wretched,  and  miferable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and  na- 
"  ked."  But,  at  prefent  he  ought,  with  regard  to  you,  to 
change  that  reproach,  and  to  fay,  ««  Oh  !  you  complain  that 
"  you  are  poor  and  deftitute  of  every  thing,  and  you  will 
•*  not  fee  that  you  are  rich  and  loaded  with  wealth  ;  and 
•'  that,  in  times  when  almoif.  all  around  you  fuffer,  you 
"  alone  want  for  nothing  in  my  fight. ;* 

This  is  the  fecond  pretext  made  ufe  of  in  oppofition  to 
the  duty  of  charity  ;  the  general  poverty.  Thus  the  difci- 
ples  reply,  in  the  fecond  place,  to  our  Saviour,  as  an  ex- 
cufe  for  not  aflifting  the  famifhed  multitude,  that  the  place 
is  defert  and  barren,  that  it  is  now  late,  and  that  he  ought  to 
lend  away  the  people  that  they  might  go  into  the  country 
round  about,  and  into  the  villages,  and  buy  themfelves 
bread,  for  they  had  nothing  to  eat.  A  frefh  pretext  they 
make  ufe  of  to  difpenfe  themfelves  from  compaffion ;  the 
mifery  of  the  times,  the  flerility  and  irregularity  of  the 
feafons. 

But,  ljliy,  Might  not  our  Saviour  have  anfwered  to  the 
difciples,  as  a  holy  father  fays,  It  is  becaufe  the  place  is 
barren  and  defert,  and  that  this  people  knows   not  where 

to 


318  SERMON     XI. 

to  find  food  to  allay  their  hunger,  that  they  fhould  not  be 
fent  away  fafting,  left  their  ftrength  fail  them  by  the  way  ? 
And  behold,  my  brethren,  what  I  might  alio  reply  to  you; 
the  times  are  bad,  the  feafons  are  unfavourable  :  Ah !  for 
that  very  reafon  you  ought  to  enter  with  a  more  feeling 
concern,  with  a  more  lively  and  tender  anxiety,  into  the 
Wants  of  your  fellow-creatures.  If  the  place  be  defert 
and  barren  even  for  you,  what  muft  it  be  for  fo  many  un- 
fortunate people  ?  If  you,  with  all  your  refources,  feel  fo 
much  the  mifery  of  the  times,  what  muft  they  not  fuffer, 
thofe  who  are  deftitute  of  every  comfort  ?  If  the  plagues 
of  Egypt  obtrude  even  into  the  palaces  of  the  great,  and  of 
Pharaoh,  what  muft  be  the  defolation  in  the  hut  of  the 
poor  and  of  the  labourer  ?  If  the  princes  of  Ifrael,  af* 
flicked  in  Samaria,  no  longer  find  confolation  in  their  pala- 
ces, to  what  dreadful  extremities  muft  the  common  people 
not  be  reduced  ?  Reduced,  alas  !  perhaps  like  that  unfor* 
tunate  mother,  not  to  nourifh  herfelf  with  the  blood  of 
her  child,  but  to  make  her  innocence  and  her  foul  the 
melancholy  price  of  her  neceifity. 

But,  befides,  thefe  evils  with  which  we  are  affli&ed, 
and  of  which  you  fo  loudly  complain,  are  the  punifhment 
of  your  hardnefs  towards  the  poor ;  God  avengeth  upon 
your  pofteflions  the  iniquitous  ufe  to  which  you  apply 
them  ;  it  is  the  cries  and  the  groanings  of  the  unfortunate 
whom  you  abandon  which  draw  down  the  vengeance  of 
Heaven  upon  your  lands  and  territories.  It  is  in  thefe  times, 
then,  of  public  calamity,  that  you  ought  to  haften  to  apr 
peafe  the  anger  of  God,  by  the  abundance  of  your  chari- 
ties ;  it  is  then  that,  more  than  ever,  you  fhould  intereft 
the  poor  in  your  behalf.  Alas !  you  bethink  yourfelves, 
of  addreffing  your  general  fupplications  to  the  Almighty, 
through  thefe  to  obtain  more  favourable  feafons,  the  cefTar 

tion 


ON   CHARITY.  319 

tion  of  public  calamities,  and  the  return  of  peace  and 
abundance ;  but  it  is  not  there  alone  that  your  views  and 
your  prayers  ought  to  be  carried  ;  you  can  never  expeft 
that  the  Almighty  will  attend  to  your  diftrefles,  while  you 
remain  callous  to  thofe  of  your  fellow-creatures  ;  you  have 
here  on  the  earth  the  mailers  ot  the  winds  and  of  the  fea- 
fons ;  addrefs  yourfelvesto  the  poor  and  the  affli&ed  ;  it  is 
they  who  have,  as  I  may  fay,  the  keys  of  heaven  ;  it  is 
their  prayers  which  regulate  the  times  and  feafons  ;  which 
bring  back  to  us  days  of  peace  or  of  mifery  ;  which  arreft 
©r  attract  the  bleffings  of  heaven  :  for,  abundance  is  given 
to  the  earth,  only  for  their  confolation  ;  and  it  is  only  on 
their  account  that  the  Almighty  punifheth,  or  is  bountiful 
to  you. 

But,  completely  to  confuteyou,  my  brethren,  you  who  fo 
ftrongly  alledge  to  us  the  evil  of  the  times,  does  the  pretend- 
ed rigour  of  thefe  times  retrench  any  thing  from  your  plea- 
fures  ?  What  do  your  paflions  fuffer  from  the  public  ca- 
lamities ?  If  the  misfortune  of  the  times  oblige  you  to  re- 
trench from  your  expences,  begin  with  thofe  of  which  re- 
ligion condemns  the  ufe  ;  regulate  your  tables,  your  appa- 
rel, your  amufemerits,  your  followers,  and  your  edifices, 
according  to  the  gofpel  ;  let  your  retrenchings  in  charity 
at  lead  only  follow  the  others ;  lefferi  your  crimes  before 
you  begin  to  diminifh  from  your  duties.  When  the  Al- 
mighty (hikes  with  fterility,  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  it  is 
his  intention  to  deprive  the  great  and  the  powerful  of  all 
occafions  of  debauchery  and  excefs ;  enter  then  into  the 
order  of  his  juftice,  and  his  wifdom  ;  confider  yourfelves 
as  public  criminals,  whom  the  Lord  chaflifeth  by  public 
punifhments  ;  fay  to  him,  like  David,  when  he  beheld 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  weighing  down  his  people,  "  Lo,  I 
feave  finned,  and  have  done  wickedly  ;    but  thefe  fheep, 

what 


320  SERMON     XI. 

what  have  they  done  ?  Let  thine  hand,  I  pray  thee,  be 
againft  me  and  againfl  my  father's  houfe." 

Behold  your  model ;  by  terminating  your  diforders,  ter- 
minate the  caufe  of  the  public  evils  ;  in  the  perfons  of 
the  poor,  offer  up  to  God  the  retrenchment  of  your  plea- 
fures  and  of  your  profufions,  as  the  only  righteous  and 
acceptable  facrifice  which  is  capable  of  difarming  his  an- 
ger ;  and  feeing  thefe  fcourges  fall  upon  the  earth,  only 
in  punifhment  of  the  abufes  which  you  have  made  of  your 
abundance,  bear  you  likewife,  in  leflening  thefe  abufes, 
their  anguifh  and  bitternefs.  But,  that  the  public  misfor- 
tunes mould  be  perceivable  neither  in  the  fplendour  and 
pride  of  your  equipages,  nor  in  the  fenfuality  of  your  re- 
parts,  nor  in  the  magnificence  of  your  palaces,  nor  in 
vour  rage  for  gaming  and  every  criminal  pleafure,  but 
folely  in  your  inhumanity  towards  the  poor ;  and  that  eve- 
ry thing  abroad,  the  theatres,  the  profane  aflemblies  of 
every  defcription,  the  public  feflivals,  fhould  continue 
with  the  fame  vigour  and  animation,  while  charity  alone 
fhall  be  chilled  ;  that  luxury  fhould  every  day  increafe, 
while  companion  alone  fhall  diminifh  ;  that  the  world  and 
Satan  fhould  lofe  nothing  through  the  mifery  of  the  times, 
while  Jefus  Chrift  alone  fhould  fuffer  in  his  affli&ed  mem- 
bers ;  that  the  rich,  fheltered  in  their  opulence,  fhould  fee 
only  from  afar  the  anger  of  Heaven,  while  the  poor  and  the 
innocent  fhall  become  the  melancholy  vi&ims  :  Great  God  ! 
thou  wouldft  then  overwhelm  only  the  unfortunate,  in 
fending  thefe  fcourges  upon  the  earth  !  Thy  fole  intention 
then  fhould  be  to  complete  the  deflru£lion  of  thofe  mifera- 
ble  wretches,  upon  whom  thy  hand  has  already  been  fo  hea- 
vy in  bringing  them  forth  to  penury  and  want.  The  pow- 
erful of  Egypt  fhould  alone  be  exempted  by  the  extermi- 
nating angel,  while  thy  whole  wrath  would  fall  upon  the 

affliaed 


ON   CHARITY.  321 

arrli&ed  Ifraelite,  upon  his  poor  and  unprovided  roof,  and 
even  marked  with  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Yes,  my  bre-< 
thren,  the  public  calamities  are  deflined  to  punifh  only  the 
rich  and  powerful ;  and  the  rich  and  the  powerful  are 
thofe  who  alone  fuffer  not  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  public 
evils,  in  multiplying  the  unfortunate,  furnifh  an  additional 
pretext  towards  difpenfing  themfelves  from  the  duty  of 
companion . 

Laft  excufe  of  the  difciples,  founded  on  the  great  num- 
ber of  the  people,  who  had  followed  our  Saviour  into  the 
defert  :  Thefe  people  are  fo  numerous,  faid  they,  that  two 
hundred  penny-worth  of  bread  is  not  fufficient  for  them, 
that  every  one  may  take  a  little.  Laft  pretext,  which  they 
oppofe  to  the  duty  of  charity  :  The  multitude  of  the  poor, 
yes,  my  brethren,  that  which  ought  to  excite  and  to  ani- 
mate charity,  extinguifhes  it :  the  multitude  of  the  unfor- 
tunate, hardens  you  to  their  wants  :  the  more  the  duty  in. 
creafes,  the  more  do  you  think  yourfelves  difpenfed  from 
its  practice,  and  you  become  cruel,  by  having  too  many 
occafions  of  being  charitable. 

But,  in  the  firft  place,  whence  comes,  I  pray  you,  this 
multitude  of  poor,  of  which  you  fo  loudly  complain  ?  I 
know  that  the  misfortune  of  the  times  may  increafe  their 
number  :  but  wars,  peftilences,  and  irregularity  of  feafons, 
all  of  which  we  at  prefent  experience,  have  happened  in- 
all  ages  :  the  calamities  we  behold,  are  not  unexampled  ; 
our  forefathers  have  witnefTed  them,  and  even  much  more 
melancholy  and  dreadful;  civil  diflfentions,  the  farther 
armed  againft  the  child,  the  brother  againft  brother  ;  coun- 
tries ravaged  and  laid  wafte  by  their  own  inhabitants  ;  the 
kingdom  a  prey  to  foreign  enemies  ;  no  perfon  in  fafety  un- 
der his  own  roof:  we  fee  not  thefe  miferies  ;  but  have 

Vol.  I.  R  r  they 


322  SERMON     XI. 

they  feen  what  we  witnefs  ?  fo  many  public,  and  conceal- 
ed miferies  ?  fo  many  families  worn  out  ?  fo  many  citizens, 
formerly  diflinguifhed,  now  low  in  the  duft,  and  confound- 
ed with  the  meaneft  of  the  people  ?  Arts  become  almoft 
ufelefs  ?  The  image  of  hunger  and  death  fpread  over  the 
cities,  and  over  the  fields  ?  What  fhall  I  fay  ?  So  many 
hidden  iniquities,  brought  every  day  to  light,  the  dreadful 
confequences  of  defpair,  and  horrible  necefhty  ?  Whence 
comes  this,  my  brethren  ?  Is  it  not  from  a  luxury,  unknown 
to  our  fathers,  and  which  engluts  every  thing  ?  from  your 
expences,  which  know  no  bounds,  and  which  necefTarily 
drag  along  with  them  the  extinction  of  charity  ? 

Ah  !  was  the  primitive  church  not  perfecuted,  defolated, 
and  affli&ed  ?  Do  the  calamities  of  our  age  bear  any  compa- 
rison with  the  horrors  of  thofe  times  ?  Profcription  of  pro- 
perty, exilement,  and  imprifonment  were  then  daily ;  the 
moil  burdenfome  charges  of  the  ftate,  fell  upon  thofe  who 
were  fufpe&ed  of  Chriftianity :  in  a  word,  fo  many  cala- 
mities were  never  beheld  ;  and  neverthelefs,  there  was  no 
poor  among  them,  fays  St.  Luke,  nor  any  that  lacked.  Ah  ! 
It  is,  becaufe  riches  of  fimplicity,  fprung  up  even  from 
their  poverty  itfelf,  according  to  the  expreflion  of  the  apof- 
tle  ;  it  is,  becaufe  they  gave  according  to  their  means,  and 
even  beyond  them :  it  is,  becaufe  the  moft  diftant  provin- 
ces, through  the  care  of  the  apoftolic  minifters,  flowed 
ftreams  of  charity,  for  the  confolation  of  their  afflicted 
brethren  in  Jerufalem,  more  expofed  than  the  reft  to  the 
rage  and  hatred  of  the  fynagogue. 

But  more  than  all  that,  it  is,  becaufe  the  moft  power- 
ful of  the  primitive  believers  were  adorned  with  modefty  ; 
and  that  our  great  riches  are  now  fcarcely  fufficient  tofup- 
port  that  monflrous  luxury,  of  which  cuflom  has  made  a 

law 


ON  CHARITY.  323 

law  to  us ;  it  is,  that  their  feflivals  were  repafls  of  fobriety 
and  charity  ;  and  that  the  holy  abftinence  itfelf,  which  we 
celebrate,  cannot  moderate  among  us,  the  protufions,  and 
the  excefles  of  the  table,  and  of  feafts ;  it  is,  that  having 
no  fixed  city  here  below,  they  did  not  exhauft  themfelves 
in  forming  brilliant  eflablifhments,  in  order  to  render  their 
names  illuftrious,  to  exalt  their  pofterity,  and  to  ennoble 
their  own  obfcurity  and  meannefs ;  they  thought  only  of 
fecuring  to  themfelves  a  better  eftablifhment  in  the  celeftial 
country  ;  and  that  at  prefent  no  one  is  contented  with  his 
ftation  ;  every  one  wifhes  to  mount  higher  than  his  ancef- 
tors,  and  that  their  patrimony  is  only  employed  in  buying  ti- 
tles and  dignities,  which  may  obliterate  their  name  and  the 
meannefs  of  their  origin  :  in  a  word,  it  is  becaufe  the  fru- 
gality of  thefe  firfl:  believers  conftituted  the  whole  wealth 
of  their  afflicled  brethren,  and  that  at  prefent  our  protufions 
occafion  all  their  poverty  and  want.  It  is  our  excefles  then, 
my  brethren,  and  our  hardnefs  of  heart  towards  them, 
which  multiply  the  number  of  the  unfortunate  :  excufe 
no  more  then,  on  that  head,  the  failing  of  your  charities ; 
that  would  be  making  your  guilt  itfelf  your  excufe.  Ah  ! 
you  complain  that  the  poor  overburden  you  ;  but  they 
would  have  reafon  in  retorting  the  charge  one  day  againft 
you  :  do  not  then  accufe  them  for  your  infenfibility  ;  and 
reproach  them  not,  with  that,  which  they  undoubtedly 
fhall  one  day  reproach  to  you,  before  the  tribunal  of  Jefus 
Chrift. 

If  each  of  you  were,  according  to  the  advice  of  the  apoftle, 
to  appropriate  a  certain  portion  of  your  wealth  towards  the 
fubfiftence  of  the  poor  ;  if,  in  the  computation  of  your ex- 
pences,  and  of  your  revenues,  this  article  were  to  be  always 
regarded  as  the  moll  facred,  and  the  mod  inviolable  one  : 
Then  fhould  we  quickly  fee  the  number  of  the  afflicled  to 

diminifh  : 


324  SERMON     XI. 

diminim :  We  mould  foon  fee  renewed  in  the  church,  that 
peace,  that  happinefs,  and  that  chearful  equality,  which 
reigned  among  the  firft  Chriflians  ;  we  mould  no  longer 
behold  forrow,  that  monftrous  difproportion,  which  ele- 
vating the  one,  places  him  on  the  pinacle  of  profperity 
and  opulence,  while  the  other  crawls  on  the  ground,  and 
groans  in  the  gulph  of  poverty  and  affliction  :  no  longer 
mould  there  be  any  unhappy,  except  the  impious,  among 
us  ;  no  fecret  miferies,  except  thofe  which  fin  operates  in 
the  foul ;  no  tears,  except  thofe  of  penitence  ;  no  fighs, 
but  for  heaven  ;  no  poor,  but  thofe  bleffed  difciples  of 
the  gofpel,  who  renounce  all  to  follow  their  Mafter  :  Our 
cities  would  be  the  abode  of  innocence  and  compaflion  ; 
religion,  a  commerce  of  charity  ;  the  earth,  the  image  of 
heaven,  where  in  different  degrees  of  glory,  each  is  equ- 
ally happy  ;  and  the  enemies  of  faith  would  again,  as  for- 
merly, be  forced  to  render  glory  to  God,  and  to  confefs 
that  there  is  fomething  of  divine  in  religion  which  is  ca- 
pable of  uniting  men  together  in  a  manner  fo  new. 

But,  in  what  the  error  here  confifls,  is,  that  in  the  prac- 
tice, nobody  confiders  charity  as  one  of  the  molt  effential 
obligations  of  Chriflianity  :  confequently,  they  have  no 
regulation  on  that  point  :  if  fome  bounty  by  bellowed,  it 
is  always  arbitrary ;  and  however  fmall  it  be,  they  are 
equally  fatisfied  with  themfelves,  as  if  they  had  even  gone 
beyond  their  duty. 

Befides,  when  you  pretend  to  excufe  the  fcantinefs  of 
your  charities,  by  faying  that  the  number  of  the  poor  is  end- 
lefs ;  what  do  you  believe  to  fay  ?  you  fay  that  your  obliga- 
tions, with  refpeel:  to  them,  are  become  only  more  indifpen- 
fible;  that  your  compafhon  ought  to  increafein  proportion 
as  their  wants  increafe  ;  and  that  you  contract  new  debts, 

whenever 


.     ON   CHARITY.  325 

whenever  any  increafe  of  fortune  takes  place  on  the  earth. 
It  is  then,  my  brethren,  it  is  during  thefe  public  calamities, 
that  you  ought  to  retrench  even  from  expences,  which  at 
any  other  period  might  be  permitted,  and  which  might  even, 
be  proper;  it  is  then,  that  you  ought  to  confider  yourfelves 
but  as  the  principal  poor,  and  to  take  as  a  charity  whatever  you 
take  for  yourfelves  ?  it  is  then  that  you  are  no  longer,  either 
grandee,  man  in  office,  diftinguifhed  citizen,  or  woman  of 
illuflrious  birth;  you  are  (imply  believer,  member  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  brother  of  every  affli&ed  Chriftian. 

And  furely,  fay :  while  that  cities  and  provinces  are 
ftruck  with  every  calamity ;  that  men  created  after  the  im- 
age of  God,  and  redeemed  with  his  whole  blood,  browfe 
like  the  animal,  and  through  their  neceflity  go  to  fearch  in 
the  fields  a  food  which  nature  has  not  intended  for  man, 
and  which  to  them  becomes  a  food  of  death ;  would  you 
have  the  refolution  to  be  the  only  one  exempted  from  the 
general  evil  ?  While  the  face  of  a  whole  kingdom  is  chan- 
ged, and  that  cries  an  lamentations  alone  are  heard  around 
your  fuperb  dwelling  ;  would  you  preferve  within  the 
fame  appearance  of  happinefs,  pomp,  tranquillity,  and  op- 
ulence ?  And  where,  then,  would  be  humanity,  reafon, 
religion  ?  In  a  pagan  republic*,  you  would  be  held  as  a  bad 
citizen  ;  in  a  fociety  of  fages  and  wordly,  as  a  foul,  vile, 
fordid,  without  nobility,  without  generoiity,  and  without 
elevation  ;  and  in  the  church  of  Jefus  Chrift,  in  what  light, 
think  you,  can  you  be  held  ?  Oh  !  As  a  monfter,  unwor- 
thy of  the  name  of  Chriftian  which  you  bear,  ot  that  faith, 
in  which  you  glorify  yourfelf,  of  the  facrament  which 
you  approach,  and  even  of  entry  into  our  temples  where 

you 

***  This  difcourfe  was  pronounced  in  1709,  when  France  was  almoft  dc» 
11  folated  by  war,  peftilence,  and  famine." 


326  SERMON     XI. 

you  come,  feeing  all  thefe  are  the  facred  fymbols  of  that 
union,  which  ought  to  exifl  among  believers. 

Neverthelefs,  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  extended  over  our 
people,  in  the  cities  and  in  the  provinces  ;  you  know  it, 
and  you  lament  it :  Heaven  is  deaf  to  the  cries  of  this  af- 
flicled  kingdom  ;  wretchednefs,  poverty,  defolation,  and 
death,  walk  every  where  before  us.  Now,  do  any  of 
thofe  excefles  of  charity  become  at  prefent  a  law  of  pru- 
dence and  jufhce,  efcape  you  ?  Do  you  take  upon  your- 
felves  any  part  of  the  calamities  of  your  brethren  ?  What 
(hall  I  fay  ?  Do  you  not  perhaps  take  advantage  of  the 
public  mifery  ?  Do  you  not  perhaps  turn  the  general  po- 
verty to  a  barbarous  profit  ?  Do  you  not  perhaps  complete 
the  flripping  of  the  unfortunate,  in  affecting  to  hold  out  to 
them  an  affifting  hand  ?  And,  are  you  unacquainted  with 
the  inhuman  art,  of  deriving  individual  profit,  even  from 
the  tears  and  the  neceflities  of  your  brethren  ?  Bowels  of 
iron,  when  you  fhall  be  filled,  you  fhall  burfl  afunder; 
your  felicity  itfelf  fhall  conftitute  your  punifhment,  and 
the  Lord  will  fhower  down  upon  you  his  war  and  his 
wrath. 

My  brethren,  how  dreadful  fhall  be  the  prefence  of  the 
poor  before  the  tribunal  of  Jefus  Chrift,  to  the  greateft  part 
of  the  rich  in  this  world  !  How  powerful  fhall  be  thefe 
accufers !  And  how  little  fhall  remain  for  you  to  fay,  when 
they  fhall  reproach  to  you  the  fcantinefs  of  the  faccour 
which  was  required  to  foften  and  to  relieve  their  wants  : 
that  a  fingle  day,  cut  off  from  your  profufions,  would  have 
fufficed  to  remedy  the  indigence  of  one  of  their  years  ; 
that  it  was  their  own  property  which  you  withheld,  fince 
whatever  you  had,  beyond  a  fufficiency,  belonged  to 
them  ;  that  confequently,  you  have  not  only  been  cruel, 

but 


ON   CHARITY.  327 

but  alfo  unjuft,  in  refufing  it  to  them  ;  but  that,  after  all, 
your  hardheartednefs  has  ferved  only  to  exercife  their  pa- 
tience, and  to  render  them  more  worthy  of  immortality, 
while  you,  forever  deprived  of  thofe  riches,  which  you 
were  unwilling  to  lodge  in  fafety  in  the  bofom  of  the 
poor,  fhall  receive  for  your  portion  only  the  curfe  prepar- 
ed for  thofe  who  fhall  have  feen  Jefus  Chrifl  fuffering 
hunger,  thirft,  and  nakednefs  in  his  members,  and  fhall 
not  have  relieved  him.  Such  is  the  illufion  of  the  pretexts 
employed  to  difpenfe  themfelves  from  the  duty  of  charity  ; 
let  us  now  determine  the  rules  to  be  obferved,  in  fulfil- 
ling it  ;  and,  after  having  defended  this  obligation  againft 
all  the  vain  excufes  of  avarice,  let  us  endeavour  to  fave  it 
from  even  the  defecls  of  charity. 

Part  II.  Not  to  found  the  trumpet  in  order  to  attract  the 
public  attention  in  the  companionate  offices  which  we  ren- 
der to  our  brethren  ;  to  obferve  an  order  even  of  juftice 
in  charity,  and  not  to  prefer  the  wants  of  ftrangers  to  thofe 
with  whom  we  are  conne&ed  ;  to  appear  feeling  for  the 
misfortune,  and  to  know  how  to  footh  the  afflicled  by  our 
tendernefs  and  affability,  as  well  as  by  our  bounty ;  in  a 
word,  to  find  out,  by  our  vigilance  and  attention,  the  fe- 
cret  of  their  fhame  ;  behold  the  rules  which  the  prefent  ex- 
ample of  our  Saviour  prefcribes  to  us  in  the  practice  of 
compaflion. 

lftly,  He  went  up  into  a  defert  and  hidden  place,  fays 
the  gofpel  ;  he  afcended  a  mountain,  where  he  feated  him- 
felf  with  his  difciples.  His  defign,  according  to  the  holy 
interpreters,  was  to  conceal  from  the  eyes  of  the  neigh- 
bouring villages  the  miracle  of  multiplying  the  loaves,  and 
te  have  no  witneffes  of  his  compaflion  except  thofe  who 

were 


328  SERMON     XI. 

were  to  reap  the  fruits  of  it.     Firft  inftru£hon,  and  firft 
rule ;  the  fecrecy  of  chanty. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  how  may  fruits  of  companion  are 
every  day  blafted  in  the  fight  of  God,  by  the  fcorching 
wind  of  pride  and  vain  oflentation  !  How  many  charities 
loft  for  eternity  !  How  many  treafures,  which  were  be- 
lieved to  have  been  fafely  lodged  in  the  bofom  of  the  poor, 
and  which  fhall  one  day  appear  corrupted  with  vermin,  and 
confumed  with  ruft ! 

In  truth,  thofe  grofs  and  bare-faced  hypocrites  are  rare 
which  openly  vaunt  to  the  world  the  merit  of  their  pious 
exertions ;  pride  is  more  cunning,  and  it  never  altogether 
unmafks  itfelf  ;  but,  how  diminutive  is  the  number  of  thofe 
who,  moved  with  the  true  zeal  of  chanty,  like  our  Sa- 
viour, feek  out  folitary  and  private  places  to  beftow,  and, 
at  the  fame,  to  conceal  their  holy  gifts !  We  now  fee  only 
that  oftentatious  zeal,  which  nothing  but  neceffities  of  eclat 
can  interefl,  and  which  pioufly  wifhes  to  make  the  public 
acquainted  with  every  gift ;  they  will  fometimes,  it  is  true, 
adopt  meafures  to  conceal  them,  but  they  are  not  forry 
when  an  indifcretion  betrays  them  ;  they  will  not  perhaps 
court  the  public  attention,  but  they  are  delighted  when 
the  public  attention  furprifes  them,  and  they  almoft  con- 
sider as  loft  any  liberality  which  remains  concealed. 

Alas !  our  temples  and  our  altars,  are  they  not  every 
where  marked  with  the  gifts  and  with  the  names  of  their 
benefactors  ;  that  is  to  fay,  are  thev  not  the  public  monu- 
ments of  our  forefathers  and  our  own  vanity  ?  If  the  in- 
vifible  eye  of  the  heavenly  Father  alone  was  meant  to  have 
witnefled  them,  to  what  purpofe  all  that  vain  oftentation  ? 

Are 


ON  CHARITY. 


329 


Are  you  afraid  that  the  Lord  forget  your  offerings  ?  If 
you  wifh  only  to  pleafe  him,  why  expofe  your  gifts  to  any 
other  eye?  Why  thefe  titles  and  thefe  infcriptions  which 
immortalife,  on  facrcd  walls,  your  gifts  and  your  pride? 
Was  it  not  fufficient  that  they  were  written  even  by  the 
hand  of  God  in  the  book  of  life  ?  Why  engrave  on  a  pe- 
rifhable  marble  the  merit  of  a  deed,  which  charity  would 
have  rendered  immortal  ? 

Solomon,  after  having  completed  the  moil  fuperb'and  the 
mofl  magnificent  temple  of  which  the  earth  could  ever 
boaft,  engraved  the  awful  name  of  the  Lord  alone  upon  it, 
without  prefuming  to  mingle  any  memorial  of  the  grandeur 
of  his  race  with  thofe  of  the  eternal  majefly  of  the  King 
of  kings.  We  give  an  appellation  of  piety  to  this  euflom  ; 
it  is  thought  that  thefe  public  monuments  excite  the  libe- 
rality of  believers.  But  the  Lord,  hath  he  charged  your 
vanity  with  the  care  of  attracting  gifts  to  his  altars  ?  And 
hath  he  permitted  you  to  depart  from  modefly  in  order  to 
make  your  brethren  more  charitable  ?  Alas  !  the  mofl  pow- 
erful among  the  primitive  believers  carried  humbly,  as  the 
mofl:  obfcure,  their  patrimony  to  the  feet  of  the  apoftles  : 
They  beheld  with  an  holy  joy  their  names  and  their  wealth 
confounded  among  thofe  of  their  brethren  who  had  lefs  than 
they  to  offer  ;  they  were  not  then  diflinguiihed  in  the  af- 
fembly  of  the  faithful  in  proportion  to  their  gifts;  honours 
and  precedency  were  not  yet  the  price  of  gifts  and  offer- 
ings, and  they  knew  better  than  to  exchange  the  eternal  re- 
compence  which  they  awaited  from  the  Lord  for  any  frivo- 
lous glory  they  could  receive  from  men :  and  now  the 
church  has  not  privileges  enough  to  fatisfy  the  vanity  of 
her  benefactors ;  their  places  are  marked  out  in  the  fan6tuary  ; 
their  tombs   appear  even  under  the  altar,  where  only  the 

Vol.  I.  S  s  afiics 


33°  SERMON     XI. 

afhes  of  martyrs  mould  repofe.  Cuftom,  it  is  true,  au- 
thorifes  this  abufe  ;  but  cuftom  does  not  always  juilify 
what  it  authoriies. 

Charity,  my  brethren,  is  that  fweet-fmelling  favour  of 
Jefus  Chrift  which  vanifhes,  and  is  extinguifhed  from  the 
moment  that  it  is  expofed.  I  mean  not  that  public  a&s  of 
compaflion  are  to  be  refrained  from :  We  owe  the  edifica- 
tion and  example  of  them  to  our  brethren  ;  it  is  proper  that 
they  fee  our  works ;  but  we  ought  not  ourfelves  to  fee 
them,  and  our  left  hand  mould  be  ignorant  of  what  our 
right  beftows  ;  even  thofe  a£Hons  which  duty  renders  the 
mod  mining  ought  always  to  be  hidden  in  the  preparation 
of  the  heart ;  we  ought  to  entertain  a  kind  of  jealoufy  of 
the  public  view  on  tfieir  account,  and  to  believe  their  pu- 
rity in  fafety  only  when  they  are  expofed  to  the  eyes  of 
God  alone.  Yes,  my  brethren,  thofe  liberalities  which 
have  flowed  moftly  in  fecret  reach  the  bofom  of  God 
much  more  pure  than  others,  which,  even  contrary  to  our 
wifhes,  having  been  expofed  to  the  eyes  of  men,  become 
troubled  and  defiled,  as  I  may  fay,  in  their  courfe,  by  the 
inevitable  flatteries  of  felf-love,  and  by  ;the  applaufes  of 
the  beholders ;  like  thofe  rivers  which  have  flowed  moftly 
under  ground,  and  which  pour  their  ftreams  into  the  ocean 
pure,  and  undefiled,  while,  on  the  contrary,  thofe  which 
have  traverfed  plains  and  countries,  expofed  to  the  day, 
carry  there,  in  general,  only  muddy  waters,  and  drag  along 
with  them  the  wrecks,  carcaffes,  and  flime,  which  they 
have  amaffed  in  their  courfe.  Behold,  then,  the  firft  rule 
of  charity  which  our  Saviour  here  lays  down  ;  to  fhun  fhew 
and  orientation  in  all  works  of  compaflion  ;  to  be  unwilling 
to  have  your  name  mentioned  in  them,  either  on  account 
of  the  rank  which  you  may  there  hold,  or  from  the  glory 

of 


ON  CHARITY.  33 1 

of  having  been  the  firft  promoter,  or  from  the  noife  which 
they  may  make  in  the  world,  and  not  to  lofe  upon  the  earth 
that  which  chanty  had  amafTed  only  for  heaven. 

The  fecond  circumftance  which  I  remark  in  our  gofpel 
is,  that  no  one  of  all  the  multitude  who  prefent  themfelves 
to  Jefus  Chrift  is  rejected  ;  all  are  indifcriminately  relieved  ; 
and  we  do  not  read  that,  with  regard  to  them,  our  Saviour 
hath  ufed  any  diftin&ion  or  preference.  Second  rule : 
charity  is  univerfal ;  it  banifhes  thofe  capricious  liberalities 
which  feem  to  open  the  heart  to  certain  wants,  only  in  or- 
der to  fhut  it  again  ft  all  others.  You  find  perfons  in  the 
world  who,  under  the  pretexts  of  having  ftated  charities 
and  places  deftined  to  receive  them,  are  callous  to  all  other 
wants.  In  vain  would  you  inform  them  that  a  family  is  on 
the  brink  of  ruin,  and  that  a  very  fmall  afliftance  would  ex- 
tricate it ;  that  a  young  perfon  hangs  over  a  precipice,  and 
muff,  neceflarily  perifh,  if  fome  friendly  and  aflifting  hand 
be  not  held  out ;  that  a  meritorious  and  ufeful  effabliihment 
mult  fail,  if  not  fupported  by  a  renewal  of  charity  ;  thefe 
are  not  neceflities  after  their  tafte  ;  and  in  placing  elfewhere 
fome  trifling  bounties,  they  imagine  to  have  purchafed  the 
right  of  viewing  with  a  dry  eye  and  an  indifferent  heart 
every  other  defcription  of  mifery. 

I  know  that  charity  hath  its  order  and  its  meafure  ;  that 
in  its  pra&ice  it  ought  toufe  a  proper  diftin&ion  ;  that  juftice 
requires  a  preference  to  certain  wants  ;  but  I  would  not 
have  that  methodical  charity,  it  I  may  thus  f'peak,  which, 
to  a  point,  knows  where  to  flop ;  which  has  its  days,  its 
places,  its  perfons,  and  its  limits  ;  which,  beyond  thefe, 
is  cruel,  and  can  fettle  with  itfelf,  to  be  affefted  only  in 
certain  times  and  by  certain  wants.  Ah  !  are  we  thus  maf- 
ters  of  our  hearts  when  we  truly  love  our  brethren  ?  Can 

we 


332  SERMON     XI. 

•we  at  our  will,  mark  out  to  ourfelves  the  moments  of 
warmth  and  ot  indifference?  Charity,  that  holv  love,  is  it 
fo  regular  when  it  truly  inflames  the  heart  ?  Has  it  not,  if 
I  may  fay  fo,  its  tranfports  and  its  excefles  ?  And  do  not 
occafions  fometimes  occur  fo  truly  affecting,  that  did  but  a 
fingle  fpark  of  charity  exift  in  your  heart,  it  would  fhew 
itfelf,  and  in  the  inftant  would  open  your  bowels  ot  com- 
paflion  and  your  riches  to  your  brother  ? 

I  would  not  have  that  rigidly  circumfpecl:  charity,  which 
is  never  done  with  its  fcrutiny  and  which  always  miftrufts 
the  truth  of  the  neceffities  laid  open  to  it.  See  if  in  that 
multitude  which  our  Saviour  filleth,  he  apply  himfelf  to 
feparate  thofe  whom  idlenefs  or  the  fole  hope  of  corporeal 
jiourifhment  had  perhaps  attracted  to  the  defert,  and  who 
might  ftill  have  had  fufficient  ftrength  left  to  go  and  fearch  for 
food  in  the  neighbouring  villages  ;  no  one  is  excepted  from 
his  divine  bounty.  Is  the  being  reduced  to  feign  wretch- 
ednefs  not  a  fufficient  mifery  of  itfelf  ?  Is  it  not  preferable 
to  aflift  fictitious  'wants,  rather  than  to  run  the  rifk  of  re- 
iufing  to  real  and  melancholy  objecls  of  compaflion  ? 
When  an  impoflor  fhould  even  deceive  your  charity,  where 
is  the  lofs  ?  Is  it  not  always  Jefus  Chrift  who  receives  it 
from  your  hand  ?  And  is  your  recompense  attached  to  the 
abufe  which  may  be  made  of  your  bounty,  or  to  the  inten- 
tion itfelf  which  beftows  it  ? 

From  this  rule  there  fprings  a  third,  laid  down  in  the 
hiftory  of  our  gofpel,  at  the  fame  time  with  the  other  two  ; 
it  is,  that  not  only  ought  chanty  to  be  univerfal,  but  like- 
wife  mild,  affable,  and  companionate.  Jefus  Chriff.  be- 
holding thefe  people  wandering  and  unprovided  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  is  touched  with  companion  ;  he  is  af- 
fected at  the  fight,  and  the  wants  of  the  multitude  awaken 

his 


ON   CHARITY.  333 

his  tendernefs  and  pity.     Third' rule:  the  gentlenefs  of 
charity. 

We  of ten  accompany  pity  with  fo  much  afperity  towards 
the  unf 01  ate,  while  flretching  out  to  them  an  helping 
hand  ;  we  look  upon  them  with  fo  four  and  fo  fevere  a 
countenance,  that  a  fimple  denial  had  been  lefs  galling  to 
them  than  a  charity  foharfhlv  and  fo  unfeelingly  beftowed ; 
for  the  pity  which  appears  afTecled  by  our  misfortunes,  con- 1 
foles  them  almoit.  as  much  as  the  bounty  which  relieves 
them.  We  reproach  to  them  their  ftrength,  their  idlenefs, 
their  wandering  and  vagabond  manners  ;  we  accufe  their 
own  conduct  ior  their  indigence  and  wretchednefs  ;  and, 
in  fuccouring,  we  purchafe  the  right  of  infulting  them.  1 
But,  were  the  unhappy  creature  whom  you  outrage  per- 
mitted to  reply;  if  the  abjeclnefs  of  his  fituation  had  not 
put  the  check  of  fhame  and  refpeft  upon  his  tongue  ;  what 
do  you  reproach  to  me  would  he  fay  ?  An  idle  life,  and 
ufelefs  and  vagabond  manners.  But  what  are  the  cares 
which  in  your  opulence  engrofs  you  ?  The  cares  ot  ambi- 
tion, the  anxieties  of  fortune,  the  impulfes  of  the  paf- 
fions,  the  refinements  of  voluptuoufnefs  :  I  may  be  an 
unprofitable  fervant,  but  are  you  not  yourfelf  an  unfaith- 
ful one  ?  Ah  !  if  the  molt  culpable  were  always  to  be  the 
pooreft  and  the  moft  unfortunate  in  this  world,  would  vour 
lot  be  fuperior  to  mine  ?  You  reproach  me  with  a  ftrength 
which  I  apply  to  no  purpofe,  but  to  what  ufe  do  you  apply 
your  own  ?  Becaufe  I  work  not  I  ought  not  to  have  food  ; 
but  are  you  difpenfed  yourfelf  from  that  law?  Are  you 
rich  merely  that  you  may  pafs  your  life  in  a  fhame ful  ef- 
feminacy and  floth  ?  Ah  !  the  Lord  will  judge  betwixt  you 
and  me;  and  before  his  awful  tribunal  it  mail  be  ieeii 
^yhether  your  voluptuoufnefs  and  profufions  were  more  al- 
lowable 


334  SERMON    XI. 

lowable  in  you  than  the  innocent  artifice  which  I  employ 
to  attract  afliftance  to  my  fufferings. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  let  us  at  leaft  offer  to  the  unfortu- 
nate, hearts  feeling  for  their  wants ;  if  the  mediocrity  of 
our  fortune  permit  us  not  altogether  to  relieve  our  indi- 
gent fellow-creatures,  let  us,  by  our  humanity,  at  lead 
foften  the  yoke  of  poverty.  Alas  !  we  give  tears  to  the 
chimerical  adventures  of  a  theatrical  perfonage ;  we  ho- 
nour fictitious  misfortunes  with  real  fenfibility  ;  we  depart 
from  a  reprefentation  with  hearts  ftill  moved  for  the  difaf- 
ters  of  a  fabulous  hero ;  and  a  member  of  Jefus  Chrift,  an 
inheritor  of  heaven,  and  your  brother,  whom  you  encoun- 
ter in  your  way  from  thence,  perhaps  finking  under  dif- 
cafe  and  penury,  and  who  wifhes  to  inform  you  of  the  ex- 
cefs  of  his  fufferings,  finds  you  callous!  And  you  turn 
your  eyes  with  difguft  from  that  fpeclacle,  and  deign  not 
to  liflen  to  him  ?  And  you  quit  him  even  with  a  rudenefs 
and  brutality,  which  finifh  to  wring  his  heart  with  forrow  ? 
Inhuman  foul !  have  you  then  left  all  your  fenfibility  on 
an  infamous  theatre  ?  Doth  the  fpe&acle  of  Jefus  Chrift 
fuffering  in  one  of  his  members  offer  nothing  worthy  of 
your  pity  ?  And  that  your  heart  may  be  touched,  muft  the 
ambition,  the  revenge,  the  voluptuoufnefs,  and  all  the 
other  horrors  of  the  pagan  ages  be  revived  ? 

But,  it  is  not  enough  that  we  offer  hearts  feeling  for  the 
diftreffes,  which  prefent  themfelves  to  our  view  ;  charity 
goes  farther  :  it  does  not  indolently  await  thofe  occafions, 
which  chance  may  throw  in  its  way  ;  it  knows  how  to 
fearch  them  out,  and  even  to  anticipate  them  itfelf.  Laft 
rule;  the  vigilance  of  charity.  Jefus  Chrift  waits  not  till 
thofe  poor  people  addrefs  themfelves  to  him,  and  lay  open 

their 


ON  CHARITY.  ggj 

their  wants ;  He  is  the  fiiH  to  difcover  them  ;  fcarcely  has 
he  found  them  out,  when  with  Philip,  he  fearches  the 
means  of  relieving  them.  That  charity,  which  is  not  vigi- 
lant, anxious  after  the  calamities  of  which  it  is  yet  igno- 
rant, ingenious  in  difcovering  thofe  which  endeavour  to  re- 
main concealed,  which  require  to  be  folicited,  preffed, 
and  even  importuned,  refembles  not  the  charity  of  Jefus 
Chrift;  we  muft  watch,  and  penetrate  the  obfeurity,  which 
fhame  oppofes  to  our  bounties  ;  this  is  not  a  fimple  advice ; 
it  is  the  confequence  of  the  precept  of  charity.  The  paf- 
tors,  who,  according  to  faith,  are  the  fathers  of  the  peo- 
ple, are  obliged  to  watch  over  their  fpiritual  concerns  ;  and 
that  is  one  of  the  moft  efiential  functions  of  their  miniftry  ; 
the  rich  and  the  powerful  are  eftablifhed  by  God,  the  fa- 
thers and  the  pallors  of  the  poor,  according  to  the  body; 
They  are  bound  then  to  watch  continually  over  their  ne- 
ceflities :  if,  through  want  of  vigilance,  they  efcape  their 
attention,  they  are  guilty  before  God  of  all  the  confequen- 
ces,  which  a  fmall  fuccour  in  time  would  have  prevented; 

It  is  not,  that  you  are  required  to  find  out  all  the  fecret 
neceflities  of  a  city ;  but  care  and  attention  are  exacted  of 
you ;  it  is  required,  that  you,  who,  through  your  wealth 
or  birth,  hold  the  firft  rank  in  a  department,  fhall  not  be 
furrounded,  unknown  to  you,  with  thoufands  of  unfortu- 
nate fellow-creatures,  who  pine  in  fecret,  and  whofe  eyes 
are  continually  wounded  with  the  pomp  of  your  train,  and 
who,  befides  their  wretchednefs,  furler  again,  as  I  may  fay, 
in  your  profperity  ;  It  is  required,  that  you,  who,  amid  all 
the  pleafuresof  the  court,  or  of  the  city,  fee  flowing  into 
your  hands,  the  fruits  of  the  fweat  and  of  the  labour  of  fo 
many  unfortunate  people,  who  inhabit  your  lands  and  your 
fields ;  it  is  required,  that  you  be  acquainted  with  thofe, 
whom  the  toils  of  induftry  and  of  age  have  exhaufted,  and 

who, 


336  SERMON     XI. 

who,  in  their  humble  dwellings,  drag  on  the  wretched  re- 
mains of  dotage  and  poverty  ;  thofe  whom  a  languishing 
health,  renders  incapable  of  labour,  their  only  refource 
againft  indigence  and  want ;  thofe  whom  fex  and  age  ex- 
pofed  to  feduclion,  and  whofe  innocence  you  might  have 
been  enabled  to  preferve.  Behold  what  is  required,  and 
what  with  every  right  of  juftice  is  exacted  from  you  ;  be- 
hold the  poor  with  whom  the  Lord  hath  charged  you,  and 
for  whom  you  fhall  anfwer  to  him  ;  the  poor,  whom  he 
leaveth  on  the  earth,  only  for  your  lake,  and  to  whom  his 
providence  hath  afligned  no  other  refource,  than  your 
wealth,  and  your  bounty. 

Now,  are  they  even  known  to  you  ?  Do  you  chargr 
their  paflors,  to  make  them  known  to  you  ?  Are  thefe  the 
cares  which  occupy  you,  when  you  fhew  yourfelf  in  the 
midft  of  your  lands  and  pofTeflions  ?  Ah  !  It  is  with  cruelty 
to  fcrew  your  claims  from  the  hands  of  thefe  unfortunate 
people ;  it  is  to  tear  from  their  bowels  the  innocent  price 
of  their  toil,  without  regard  to  their  want,  to  the  mifery 
of  the  times  which  you  alledge  to  us,  to  their  tears,  and  of- 
ten to  their  defpair :  What  fhall  I  fay  ?  It  is  perhaps  to 
crufh  down  their  weaknefs,  to  be  their  tyrant,  and  not 
their  Lord  and  their  father.  O  God  1  Curfeft  thou  not, 
thefe  cruel  generations,  and  thefe  riches  of  iniquity  ?  Dofi 
thou  not  ftamp  upon  them  the  marks  of  misfortune  and 
defolation,  and  which  (hall  foon  blaft  the  fource  of  their 
families  ;  which  wither  the  root  of  a  proud  pofterity  : 
which  produce  domeflic  difcord,  public  difgraces,  the  fall 
and  total  extinction  of  houfes  ?  Alas  !  We  are  fometimes 
aftonifhed  to  fee  fortunes  apparently  the  befl  eflablifhed, 
go  to  wreck  in  an  inftant ;  thofe  ancient,  and  formerly  fo 
illuftrious  names  fallen  into  obfcurity,  no  longer  to  ofler 
to  our  view,  but  the  melancholy  wrecks  of  their  ancient 

fplendour ; 


ON  CHARITY.  337 

fplendour;  and  their  eftates  become  the  property  of  their 
rivals,  or  perhaps  of  their  own  fervants.  Ah  !  Could  we 
inveftigate  the  fource  ot  their  misfortunes  ;  if  their  afhes, 
and  the  pompous  wrecks,  which  in  the  pride  of  their  monu- 
ments remain  to  us  of  their  glory,  could  fpeak  :  Do  you 
fee,  they  would  fay  to  us,  thefe  fad  marks  of  our  grandeur  ! 
It  is  the  tears  of  the  poor  whom  we  neglected,  whom  we 
opprefled,  which  have  gradually  fapped,  and  at  laft  have 
totally  overthrown  them  ;  their  cries  have  drawn  down  the 
thunder  of  heaven  upon  our  palaces  :  The  Lord  hath 
blown  upon  our  fuperb  edifices,  and  upon  our  fortune, 
and  hath  diflipated  them  like  duft  :  let  the  name  of  the 
poor  be  honourable  in  thy  fight,  if  you  wifh  that  your 
names  may  never  perifh  in  the  memory  of  men  :  let  com- 
paflion  fuftain  your  houfes,  if  you  wifh  that  your  pofterity 
be  not  buried  under  their  ruins  :  become  wife  at  our  coft  ; 
and  let  our  misfortunes  in  teaching  you  our  faults,  teach 
you  alfo  to  fhun  them. 

And  behold,  my  brethren,  (that  I  ma'y  fay  fomething 
refpe£ting  it,  before  I  conclude,)  the  fir  ft  advantage  of 
Chriftian  charity  ;  bleflings  even  in  this  world.  The 
bread  blefTed  by  our  Saviour,  multiplies  in  the  hands  of  the 
Apoflles  who  diftribute  it ;  five  thoufand  are  fatisfied  ;  and 
twelve  bafkets  can  hardly  contain  the  remnants  gathered 
up  :  that  is  to  fay,  that  the  gifts  of  charity,  are  riches  of 
benediction,  which  multiply  in  proportion  as  they  are  dif- 
tributed,  and  which  bear  along  with  them  into  our  houfes, 
a  fource  oi  happinefs  and  abundance.  Yes,  my  brethren, 
charity  is  a  gain  ;  it  is  an  holy  ufury  ;  it  is  a  principle 
which  returns,  even  here  below,  an  hundred  fold.  You 
fometimes  complain  of  a  fatality  in  your  affairs  ;  nothing 
fucceeds  with  you  ;  Men  deceive  you  ;  rivals  fupplant  you  ; 
Matters  neglect  you  ;  the  elements  confpire  againft  you  : 

Vol.  I.  T  t  the 


338  SERMON     XI. 

the  beft  concerted  fchemes  are  blafted  :  aflbciate  with  you 
the  poor  ;  divide  with  them  the  increafe  of  your  fortune  : 
in  proportion  as  your  profperity  augments,  do  you  aug- 
ment your  benefactions  ;  flourifh  for  them  as  well  as  for 
yourfelf  :  God  himfelf  fhall  then  be  interested  in  your  fuc- 
cefs  ;  you  fhall  have  found  out  the  fecret  of  engaging  him 
in  your  fortune,  and  he  will  preferve  ;  what  do  I  fay  ?  He 
will  blefs,  he  will  multiply  riches,  in  which  He  fees 
blended  the  portion  of  his  afflicted  members. 

This  is  a  truth,  confirmed  by  the  experience  of  all  ages  ; 
charitable  families  are  continually  feen  to  profper  :  a  watch- 
ful Providence  prefides  over  all  their  affairs  ;  where  others 
are  ruined,  they  become  rich:  they  are  feen  to  flourifh, 
but  the  fecret  canal  is  not  perceived,  which  pours  in  upon 
them  their  property  :  they  are  the  fleeces  of  Gideon,  covered 
with  the  dew  of  Heaven,  while  all  around  is  barren  and  dry. 

Such  is  the  firft  advantage  of  companion,  I  fay  nothing 
even  of  the  pleafure,  which  we  ought  to  feel  in  the  delightful 
tafk  of  foothing  thofe  who  fuffer,  in  making  a  fellow-crea- 
ture happy,  in  reigning  over  hearts,  and  in  attracting  upon 
ourfelves,  the  innocent  tribute  of  their  acclamations  and 
their  thanks.  O  !  were  we  to  reap  but  the  pleafure  of 
beflowing,  would  it  not  be  an  ample  recompenfe  to  a 
worthy  heart  ?  What  has  even  the  majefty  of  the  throne 
more  delicious,  than  the  power  of  difpenfing  favours  ? 
Would  princes  be  much  attached  to  their  grandeur,  and  to 
their  power,  were  they  condemned  to  a  folitary  enjoyment 
of  them  ?  No,  my  brethren,  make  your  riches  as  fubfer- 
vient  as  you  will,  to  your  pleafures,  to  your  profufions, 
and  to  your  caprices ;  but  never  will  you  employ  them  in 
a  way  which  fhall  leave  a  joy  fo  pure,  and  fo  worthy  of  the 
heart,  as  in  that  of  comforting  the  unfortunate. 

What 


ON    CHARITY. 


839 


What  indeed  can  be  more  grateful  to  the  heart,  than  the 
confidence,  that  there  is  not  a  moment  in  the  day,  in 
which  fome  affli&ed  fouls  are  not  raifmg  up  their  hands  to 
Heaven  for  us,  and  blefling  the  day  which  gave  us  birth  ? 
Hear  that  multitude  whom  Jefus  Chrift  hath  filled  ;  the  air 
refounds  with  their  blefiings  and  thanks ;  they  fay  to  them- 
felves,  this  is  a  prophet  ;  they  wifh  to  eftablifh  him  their 
king.  Ah  !  Were  men  to  choofe  their  mafters,  it  would 
neither  be  the  moft  noble,  nor  the  moft  valiant  ;  it  would 
be  the  moft  companionate,  the  moft  humane,  the  moft  cha- 
ritable, the  moft  feeling  :  mafters  who,  at  the  fame  time, 
would  be  their  fathers. 

Laftly,  I  do  not  add  that  Chriftian  charity  affifts  in  ex- 
piating the  crimes  of  abundance  ;  and  that  it  is  almoft  the 
only  mean  of  falvation  which  Providence  hath  provided 
for  you,  you  are  born  to  profperity.  Were  charity  inef- 
ficient to  redeem  our  offences,  we  might  certainly  think 
ourfelves  entitled  to  complain,  fays  a  holy  Father ;  we 
might  take  it  ill,  that  God  had  deprived  men  oi  fo  eafy  a 
mean  of  falvation  ;  at  leaft  might  we  fay  that,  could  we  but 
open  the  gates  of  Heaven,  through  the  means  of  riches, 
and  purchafe  with  our  whole  wealth  the  glory  of  the  holy, 
we  then  mould  be  happy.  Well,  my  brethren,  continues 
the  holy  Father,  profit  by  this  privilege,  feeing  it  is  grant- 
ed to  you  ;  haften  before  your  riches  moulder  away,  to 
depofit  them  in  the  bofom  of  the  poor,  as  the  price  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  :  the  malice  of  men  might  perhaps 
have  deprived  you  of  them  ;  your  paflions  might  have 
perhaps  (wallowed  them  up  ;  the  turns  of  fortune  might 
have  transferred  them  to  other  hands ;  death,  at  laft,  would 
fooner  or  later  have  feparated  you  from  thern  :  ah  !  charity 
alone  depofits  them  beyond  the  reach  of  all  thefe  acci- 
dects  ;  it  renders  you  their  everlafting  poffeffor ;  it  lodges 

them 


M° 


SERMON      Xl. 


them  in  fafety  in  the  eternal  tabernacles,  and  gives  you  the 
right  of  for  ever  enjoying  them  in  the  bofom  of  God  him- 
felf. 

Are  you  not  happy  in  being  able  to  afture  to  yourfelf 
admittance  into  heaven  by  means  fo  eafy  ?  In  being  able, 
by  clothing  the  naked,  to  efface  from  the  book  of  divine 
juftice  the  obfcenities,  the  luxury,  and  the  irregularities  of 
your  younger  years  ?  In  being  able,  by  filling  the  hungry, 
to  repair  all  the  fenfualities  of  your  life  ?  Laftly,  in  being 
able,  by  fheltering  innocence  in  theafylumsof  compafTion, 
to  blot  out  from  the  remembrance  of  God  the  ruin  of  fo 
many  fouls,  to  whom  you  have  been  a  ftumbling  block  ? 
Great  God  !   what  goodnefs  to  man,  to  confider  as  merito- 
rious a  virtue  which  cofts  fo  little  to  the  heart !  To  num- 
ber in  our  favour  ieelings  of  humanity,  of  which  we  could 
never  diveft  ourfelves  without  being,  at  the  fame,  divert- 
ed of  our  nature ;  to  be  willing  to  accept  as  the  price  of 
an  eternal  kingdom  frail  riches,  which  we  even  enjoy  only 
through  thy  bounty  ;  which  we  could  never  continue-  to 
poffefs,  and  from  which,  after  a  momentary  and   fleeting 
enjoyment,  we   muft  at   laft  be  feparated  !    Neverthelefs, 
mercy  is  promifed  to  him  who  fhall  have  fhewn  it  ;  a  {in- 
ner  ftill  feeling  to  the  calamities  of  his  brethren  will  not 
continue    long  infenfible  to   the  infpirations   of  heaven  ; 
grace  ftill   referves   claims  upon  a  heart  in  which  charity 
has  not  altogether  loft  its  influence  ;  a  good  heart  cannot 
long  continue  an  hardened  one  ;  that  principle  of  humani- 
ty alone,  which  operates  in  rendering  the    heart  feeling 
for  the  wants  of  others,   is  a  preparation,  as  it   were,  for 
penitence  and  falvation  ;  and  while  charity  ftill  acls  in   the 
heart,  an  happy  converfion  is  never  to  be  defpaired.     Love 
then  the  poor  as  your  brethren  ;  cherifh  them  as  your  ofF- 
fpring;  refpett  them  as  Jefus  Chrift  himfelf,  in  order  that 

he 


ON   CHARITY, 


341 


he  fay  to  you  on  the  great  day,  "  Come  ye  blefled  of  my 
"  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the 
"  foundation  of  the  world.  For  I  was  an  hungred,  and 
•■  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirfty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  : 
"  I  was  a  ftranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  ;  I  was  naked,  and 
"  ye  clothed  me ;  I  was  fick,  and  ye  vifited  me  :  For  in- 
•*  afmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  leaft  ot  thefe 
"  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 


SERMON 


SERMON  XII. 

ON  AFFLICTIONS. 


Matthew  ii.  6. 
And  bleffed  is  he,  whofoeverJJiatlnot  be  offended  in  me. 

It  is  a  bleffing,  and  a  rare  bleffing,  then,  not  to  be  offend- 
ed in  Jefus  Chrift.  But  what  was  there,  or  what  could 
there  be  in  him,  who  is  the  wifdom  itfelf,  and  the  glory 
of  the  Father,  the  fubftantial  image  of  all  perfection,  which 
could  give  fubject  of  fcandal  to  men  ?  His  crofs,  my  dear- 
eft  brethren,  which  was  formerly  the  fhame  of  the  jews, 
arftl  is,  and  fhall  be,  to  the  end  of  ages,  the  fhame  of  the 
greateft  part  of  Chriftians.  But  when  I  fay  that  the  crofs 
of  the  Saviour  is  the  fhame  of  mofl  of  Chriftians,  I  mean 
not  only  the  crofs  that  he  bore,  I  mean  more  efpecially 
that  which  we  are  obliged,  from  his  example,  to  bear; 
without  which  he  rejefts  us  as  his  difciples,  and  denies  us 
any  participation  of  that  glory  into  which  he  has  entered, 
through  the  crofs  alone. 

Behold  what  difpleafes  us,  and  what  we  find  to  complain 
of  in  our  divine  Saviour.  We  would  wifh,  that  fince  he 
was  to  fuffer,  his  fufferings  had  been  a  title,  as  it  were,  of 
exemption,  which  had  merited  to  us  the  privilege  of  not 
fuffering  with  him.     Let  us  difpel  this  error,  my  deareft 

brethren ; 


ON   AFFLICTIONS.  343 

brethren :  the  only  thing  which  depends  on  us,  is  that  of 
rendering  our  fufferings  meritorious  ;  but  to  fuffer,  or  not 
to  fuffer,  is  not  left  to  our  choice.  Providence  has  {o 
wifely  difpenfed  the  good  and  evil  of  this  life,  that  each  in 
his  ftation,  however  happy  his  lot  may  appear,  finds  crof- 
fes  and  afflictions,  which  always  counterbalance  the  plea- 
fures  of  it.  There  is  no  perfect  happinefs  on  the  earth, 
for  it  is  not  here  the  time  of  confolations,  but  the  time  of 
fufferance.  Grandeur  hath  its  fubjeclions  and  its  difquiets  ; 
obfcurity  its  humiliations  and  its  fcorns ;  the  world,  its 
cares  and  its  caprices  ;  retirement,  its  fadnefs  and  weari- 
nefs  ;  marriage,  its  antipathies  and  its  frenzies  ;  friendfhip, 
its  loffes  or  its  perfidies ;  piety  itfelf,  its  repugnances  and 
its  difgufts  :  in  a  word,  by  a  deftiny  inevitable  to  the  chil- 
dren of  Adam,  each  one  finds  his  own  path  ftrewed  with 
brambles  and  thorns.  The  apparently  happieft  condition 
hath  its  fecret  forrows,  which  empoifon  all  its  felicity  :  the 
throne  is  the  feat  of  chagrins  equally  as  the  loweft  place ; 
fuperb  palaces  conceal  the  cruelleft  difcontents,  equally 
as  the  hut  of  the  poor  and  of  the  humble  labourer ;  and, 
left  our  place  of  exile  mould  become  endeared  to  us,  we 
always  feel,  in  a  thoufand  different  ways,  that  fomething 
is  yet  wanting  to  our  happinefs. 

Neverthelefs,  deftined  to  fuffer,  we  cannot  love  the 
fufferances ;  continually  ftricken  with  fome  affliction,  we 
are  unable  to  make  a  merit  of  our  pains  ;  never  happy,  our 
erodes  become  neceflfary,  cannot  at  leaft  become  ufeful  to 
us.  We  are  ingenious  in  depriving  ourfelves  of  all  the 
merit  of  our  fufferances.  One  while  we  feek,  in  the 
weaknefs  of  our  own  heart,  the  excufe  of  our  peevifhnefs 
and  of  our  murmurings  ;  another  in  the  excels  or  in  the 
nature  of  our  afflictions  ;  and  again,  in  the  obffacles  which 
they  feem  to  us  to  caff  in  the  way  of  our  falvation  ;  that  is 

to 


344 


SERMON    XII, 


to  fay,  one  while  we  complain  of  being  too  weak  to  bear 
our  fufferings  with  patience  ;  another,  that  they  are  too 
exceffive  ;  and  laftly,  that  it  is  impoflible  in  that  fituation  to 
pay  attention  to  falvation. 

Such  are  the  three  pretexts  continually  oppofed  in  the 
world  to  the  Chriftian  ufe  of  affliftion  :  the  pretext  of  felf- 
weaknefs  ;  the  pretext  of  the  excefs  or  the  nature  of  our 
affli&ions  ;  the  pretext  of  the  obftacles  which  they  feem 
to  place  in  the  way  of  our  falvation.  Thefe  are  the  pre- 
texts we  have  now  to  overthrow,  by  oppofing  to  them 
the  rules  of  faith.  Attend  then,  be  whom  ye  may,  and 
learn  that  the  caufe  of  condemnation  to  moll  men  is  not 
pleafures  alone  :  Alas  !  they  are  fo  rare  on  the  earth,  and 
fo  narrowly  followed  by  difguft  !  it  is  likewife  the  unchrif- 
tian  ufe  they  make  of  afflictions. 

Part  I.  The  language  molt  common  to  the  fouls  af- 
flifted  by  the  Lord,  is  that  of  alledging  their  own  weak- 
nefs,  in  order  to  juftify  the  unchriftian  ufe  they  make  of 
their  afflictions.  They  complain  that  they  are  not  endow- 
ed with  a  force  of  mind  fufficient  to  preferve  under  them  a 
fubmiflive  and  a  patient  heart ;  that  nothing  is  more  condu- 
cive to  happinefs  than  the  want  oi  feeling ;  that  this  cha- 
racter faves  us  endlefs  vexations  and  chagrins  inevitable  in 
life  ;  but  that  we  cannot  fafhion  to  ourfelves  an  heart  ac- 
cording to  our  own  wilhes;  that  religion  doth  not  render 
unfeeling  and  ftoical  thole  who  are  born  with  the  tender 
feelings  of  humanity,  and  that  the  Lord  is  too  juft  to  make 
a  crime  to  us  even  of  our  misfortunes. 

But,  to  overthrow  an  allufion  fo  common  and  fo  un- 
worthy of  piety,  remark,  in  the  firft  place,  that  when  Je- 
fus    Chrift  hath  commanded  to  all  believers  to  bear  with 

fubmiffion 


ON  AFFLICTIONS.  345 

rubmiffion  and  with  love  the  crofles  propofed  for  us  by  his 
goodnefs,  he  hath  not  added,  that  an  order  fo  juft ,  fo  con- 
foling,  fo  conformable  to  his  examples,  mould  concern 
only  the  unfeeling  and  impatient  fouls.  He  hath  not  dif- 
tinguifhed  among  his  difciples,  thofe  whom  nature,  pride, 
or  reflection  had  rendered  firmer  and  more  conftant,  from 
thofe  whom  tendernefs  and  humanity  had  endowed  with 
more  feeling,  in  order  to  make  a  duty  to  the  fir  ft  oi  a  pa- 
tience and  infenfibility  which  coll  them  almoft  nothing,  and 
to  excufe  the  others  to  whom  they  become  more  difficult. 

On  the  contrary,  his  divine  precepts  are  cures  ;  and  the 
more  we  are  inimical  to  them  through  the  character  of  our 
heart,  the  more  are  they  proper  for,  and  become  neceffary 
to  us.  It  is  becaufe  you  are  weak,  and  that  the  leaft  con- 
tradictions always  excite  you  fo  much  againft  fufferances, 
that  the  Lord  muft  purify  you  by  tribulations  and  forrows  ; 
for  it  is  not  the  Itrong  who  have  occafion  to  be  tried,  it  is 
the  weak, 

In  effect,  what  is  it  to  be  weak  and  repining  ?  It  is  an 
cxceffive  felf-love  ;  it  is  to  give  all  to  nature  and  nothing 
to  faith;  it  is  to  give  way  to  every  impulfe  ot  inclination, 
and  to  live  folely  ior  eafe  and  felf-enjoyment,  as  conftitu- 
ting  the  chief  happinefs  of  man.  Now,  in  this  fituation, 
and  with  this  exceflive  fund  of  love  for  the  world  and  for 
yourfelf,  if  the  Lord  were  not  to  provide  afflictions  for 
your  weaknefs  ;  if  he  did  not  ftrike  your  body  with  an  ha* 
bitual  langour,  which  renders  the  world  infipid  to  you, 
if  he  did  not  fend  loffes  and  vexations,  which  force 
you,  through  decency,  to  regularity  and  retirement; 
if  he  did  not  overthrow  certain  projects,  which,  leaving 
your  fortune  more  obfcure,  remove  you  from  the  great 
dangers  ;  ii  he  did  not  place  you    in   certain  fituations, 

Vol.  I.  U  u  where 


346  SERMON     XII. 

where  irkfome  and  inevitable  duties  employ  your  beft  days  ; 
in  a  word,  if  he  did  not  place  betwixt  your  weaknefs  and 
you  a  barrier  which  checks  and  flops  you,  alas  !  your  in- 
nocence would  foon  be  wrecked  ;  you  would  foon  make 
an  improper  and  fatal  ufe  of  peace  and  profperity  ;  you 
who  find  no  fecurity  even  amid  affli&ions  and  troubles. 
And,  feeing  that,  affli&ed  and  feparated  from  the  world, 
and  from  pleafures,  you  cannot  return  to  God,  what 
would  it  be  did  a  more  happy  fituation  leave  you  no  other 
check  to  your  defires  than  yourfelt  ?  The  fame  weaknefs  and 
the  fame  load  of  feif-love,  which  render  us  fo  feeling  to  for- 
row  and  affliction,  would  render  us  ftill  more  fo  to  the  dan- 
gerous impreflions  of  pleafures  and  of  human  profperities. 

Thus,  it  is  no  excufe  for  our  defpondency  and  murmurs, 
to  confefs  that  we  are  weak  and  little  calculated  to  fupport 
the  ftrokes  with  which  we  are  afflicted  by  God.  The 
weaknefs  of  our  heart  proceeds  only  from  the  weaknefs  of 
our  faith ;  a  Chriftian  foul  ought  to  be  a  valiant  foul,  fu- 
perior,  fays  the  apoftle,  to  perfecution,  difgrace,  infirmi- 
ties, and  even  death.  He  may  be  opprefTed,  continues 
the  apoftle,  but  he  cannot  be  vanquifhed  ;  he  may  be  def- 
poiled  of  his  wealth,  reputation,  eafe,  and  even  life,  but 
he  cannot  be  robbed  of  that  treafure  of  faith  and  of  grace 
which  he  has  locked  up  in  his  heart,  and  which  amply 
confoles  him  for  all  thefe  fleeting  and  frivolous  lofTes.  He 
may  be  brought  to  fried  tears  of  fenfibility  and  of  forrow, 
for  religion  does  not  extinguifh  the  feelings  of  nature  ;  but 
his  heart  immediately  di  fa  vows  its  weaknefs,  and  turns  its 
carnal  tears  into  tears  of  penitence  and  of  piety.  What 
do  I  fay  ?  A  Chriftian  foul  even  delights  in  tribulations ; 
he  confiders  them  as  proofs  of  the  tender  watchfulnefs  of 
God  over  him,  as  the  precious  pledge  of  the  promifes  to 
come,    as   the   bleffed   features  of   rcfembiance   to  Jefus 

Chrifr, 


ON   AFFLICTIONS.  347 

Chrift,  and  which  give  him  an  allured  right  to  {hare  after 
this  life  in  his  immortal  glory.  To  be  weak  and  rebellious 
againft  the  order  of  God  under  fufferance,  is  to  have  loft 
faith,  and  to  be  no  longer  Chriftian. 

I  confefs  that  there  are  hearts  more  tender  and  more  feel- 
ing to  forrow  than  others  ;  but  that  fenfibility  is  left  to 
them  only  to  increafe  the  merit  of  their  fufTerings,  and  not 
to  excufe  their  impatience  and  murmurings.  It  is  not  the 
feeling,  it  is  the  immoderate  ufe  of  forrow  which  the  gof- 
pel  condemns.  In  proportion  as  we  are  born  feeling  for 
our  afflictions,  fo  ought  we  to  be  fo  to  the  confolations  of 
faith.  The  fame  fenfibility  which  renders  our  heart  fufcep- 
tible  of  chagrin,  fhould  open  it  to  grace,  which  fooths 
and  fupports  it.  A  good  heart  has  many  more  refources 
againft  afflictions,  in  confequence  of  grace  finding  eafier 
accefs  to  it ;  immoderate  grief  is  rather  the  confequence  of 
paflion  than  of  the  goodnefs  of  the  heart ;  and  to  be  una- 
ble to  fubmit  to  God,  or  to  tafte  confolation  in  our  trou- 
bles, is  to  be  not  tender  and  feeling,  but  intractable  and 
defperate. 

Moreover,  all  the  precepts  of  the  gofpel  require  ftrength, 
and  if  you  have  not  enough  to  fupport  with  fubmiflion  the 
croffes  with  which  the  Lord  pleafeth  to  afflict  you,  you 
muft  equally  want  fufficient  for  the  obfervance  of  the  other 
duties  prefcribed  to  you  by  the  doclrine  of  Jefus  Chrift. 
It  requires  ftrength  of  mind  to  forgive  an  injury  ;  to  fpeak 
well  of  thofe  who  traduce  us  ;  to  conceal  the  faults  of 
thofe  who  wifh  to  difhonour  even  our  virtues.  It  requires 
fortitude  to  be  enabled  to  fly  from  a  world  which  is  agree- 
able to  us;  to  tear  ourfelves  from  pleafures  towards  which 
we  are  impelled  by  all  our  inclinations  ;  to  refill  examples 
authorifed  by  the  multitude,  and  of  which  cuftom  has  now 

almoft 


34^  SERMON     XII. 

almoft  eftablifhed  a  law.  Strength  of  mind  is  required  id 
make  a  Chriflian  ufe  of  profperity ;  to  be  humble  in  exal- 
tation, mortified  in  abundance,  poor  of  heart  amidft  perifh- 
able  riches,  detached  from  all  when  poflefled  of  all,  and 
filled  with  defires  for  heaven  amidft  all  the  pleafures  and 
felicities  of  the  earth.  It  is  required  to  be  able  to  con- 
quer ourfelves  ;  to  reprefs  a  riling  defire  ;  to  ftifle  an 
agreeable  feeling  ;  to  recal  to  order  an  heart  which  is  incef- 
fantly  ftraying  from  it.  Laftly,  among  all  the  precepts  of 
the  gofpel,  there  is  not  one  which  does  not  fuppofe  a  firm 
and  noble  foul ;  every  where  felf-denial  is  required  ;  every 
■where  the  kingdom  of  God  is  a  field  to  be  brought  into 
cultivation,  a  vineyard  where  toil  and  the  heat  of  the  day 
mull  be  endured,  a  career  in  which  continual  and  valiant 
combating  is  required  ;  in  a  word,  the  difciples  of  Jefus 
Chrift  can  never  be  weak  without  being  overcome ;  and 
every  thing,  even  to  the  fmalleft  obligations  of  faith,  re- 
quires exertion,  and  bears  the  mark  of  the  crofs,  which  is 
its  ruling  fpirit ;  and  if  you  fail  but  for  an  inflant  in  forti- 
tude, your  are  loft.  To  fay  then  that  we  are  weak,  is  to  fay 
that  the  entire  gofpel  is  not  made  for  us,  and  that  we  are 
incapable  of  being  not  only  fubmiflive  and  patient,  but 
likewife  of  being  chafte,  humble,  difinterefted,  mortified, 
gentle,  and  charitable. 

But,  however  weak  we  may  be,  we  ought  to  have  this 
confidence  in  the  goodnefs  of  God,  that  we  are  never 
tried,  afflicted  or  tempted  beyond  our  ftrength ;  that  the  Lord 
always  proportioned!  the  afEi&ions  to  our  weaknefs ;  that 
lie  dealcth  out  his  chaflifements  like  his  favours,  by  weight 
and  meafure  ;  that  in  finking,  he  meaneth  not  to  deftroy, 
but  to  purify  and  fave  us;  that  he  himfelf  aideth  us  to  bear 
the  crofTes  which  he  impofeth  ;  that  he  chaftifeth  us  as  a 
father,  and  not  as  a  judge  ;  that  the  fame  hand  which  ftrikes 

fuftainS 


ON   AFFLICTIONS.  349 

fuffains  us  ;  that  the  fame  rod  which  makes  the  wound 
bears  the  oil  and  the  honey  to  foften  its  pain.  He  know- 
eth  the  nature  of  our  hearts,  and  how  far  our  weaknefs 
goes  ;  and  as  his  intention  in  afflicting  us  is  to  fan£Hfy  and 
not  to  deftroy  us,  he  knoweth  what  degree  of  weight  to 
give  to  his  hand  in  order  to  diminifh  nothing  from  our  me- 
rit, if  too  light,  and,  on  the  other  fide,  not  to  lofe  it  alto- 
gether, if  beyond  our  ftrength. 

Ah  !  What  other  intention  could  he  have  in  fhedding 
forrows  through  our  life  ?  Is  he  a  cruel  God,  who  delight- 
eth  only  in  the  mifery  of  his  creatures  ?  Is  he  a  barbarous 
tyrant,  who  finds  his  greatnefs  and  his  fecurity  only  in  the 
blood  and  in  the  tears  of  the  fubjecls  who  worfhip  him  ? 
Is  he  an  envious  and  morofe  mafter,  who  can  tafle  of  no 
happinefs  while  fharing  it  with  his  flaves  ?  Is  it  neceifary 
that  we  mould  fuffer,  groan,  and  perifh,  in  order  to  render 
him  happy  ?  It  is  on  our  account  alone,  therefore,  that  he 
punifheth  and  chaflifeth  us  ;  his  tendernefs  fuffers,  as  I 
may  fay,  for  our  evils  ;  but,  as  his  love  is  a  juft  and  en- 
lightened love,  he  prefereth  to  leave  us  to  fuffer,  becaufe 
he  forefees  that,  in  terminating  our  pains,  he  would  aug- 
ment our  wretchednefs.  He  is,  fays  an  holy  father,  like  a 
tender  phyfician,  who  pities,  it  is  true,  the  cries  and  the 
fufferings  of  his  patient,  but  who,  in  fpite  of  his  cries, 
cuts,  even  to  the  quick,  the  corrupted  part  of  his  wound  ; 
he  is  never  more  gentle  and  more  companionate,  than  when 
he  appears  moll  fevere  ;  and  afflictions  muff  indeed  be  ufe- 
ful  and  necefTary  to  us,  fince  a  God  fo  merciful  and  fo 
good  can  prevail  upon  himfelf  to  afflict  us. 

It  is  written,  that  Jofeph,  exalted  to  the  firft  offices  in 
Egypt,  could  hardly  retain  his  tears,  and  felt  his  bowels 
yearn  towards  his  brethren,  in  the  very  time  that  he  affect- 
ed 


35<3  SERMON     XII. 

ed  to  fpeak  mofl  harfhly  to  them,  and  that  he  feigned  not 
to  know  them.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  Jefus  Chrifl  chaf- 
tifeth  us.  He  affecls,  if  it  be  permitted  to  fpeak  in  this 
manner,  not  to  acknowledge  in  us  his  coheirs  and  his  bre- 
thren;  he  flrikes  and  treats  us  harfhly  as  Grangers ;  but 
his  love  fuffers  for  this  conftraint ;  he  is  unable  long  to 
maintain  this  character  of  feverity,  which  is  fo  foreign  to 
him  :  his  favours  foon  come  to  foften  his  blows  :  he  foon 
fhews  himfelf  fuch  as  he  is  ;  and  his  love  never  fails  to 
betrav  thefe  appearances  of  rigour  and  anger  :  judge  then, 
if  the  blows  which  come  from  fo  kind  and  fo  friendly  a 
hand  can  be  otherwife  than  proportioned  to  our  weaknefs. 

Let  us  accufe  then  only  the  corruption,  and  not  the 
weaknefs  of  our  heart,  for  our  impatience  and  murmurs. 
Have  not  weak  young  women  formerly  defied  all  the  barba- 
rity of  tyrants  ?  Have  not  children,  before  they  had  learn- 
ed to  fupport  even  the  ordinary  toils  of  life,  run  with  joy 
to  brave  all  the  rigours  of  the  moft  frightful  death  ?  Have 
not  old  men,  already  finking  under  the  weight  or  their  own 
body,  felt  like  the  eagle  their  youth  renewed  amid  ft  the  tor- 
ments of  a  long  martyrdom  ?  You  are  weak  ?  But  it  is  that 
very  weaknefs  which  is  glorious  to  faith  and  to  the  religion 
of  Jefus  Chrifl ;  it  is  even  on  that  account  that  the  Lord 
hath  chofen  you,  to  difplay  in  your  inltance  how  much 
more  powerful  grace  is  than  nature.  If  you  were  born 
with  more  fortitude  and  ftrength,  you  would  do  lefs  ho- 
nour to  the  power  of  grace ;  to  man  would  be  attributed  a 
patience,  which  fhould  be  a  gift  of  God  :  thus  the  weaker 
you  are,  the  fitter  inftrument  you  become  for  the  defigns 
and  for  the  glory  of  God.  When  his  hand  hath  been  hea- 
vy, he  hath  chofen  only  the  weak,  that  man  might  attri- 
bute nothing  to  himfelf,  and  to  overthrow  by  the  example 
of  their  conftancy,  the  vain  fortitude  of  fages  and  of  phi- 

lofophers. 


ON    AFFLICTIONS. 


35 1 


lofophers.  His  difciples  were  only  weak  lambs,  when  he 
difperfed  them  through  the  univerfe,  and  expofed  them 
amidft  the  wolves.  They  rendered  glory  in  their  weaknefs 
to  the  power  of  grace,  and  to  the  truth  of  his  do£irine. 
They  are  thofe  earthen  veffels  which  the  Lord  taketh  de-^ 
light  in  breaking,  like  thofe  of  Gideon,  to  make  the  light 
and  the  power  of  faith  fhine  forth  in  them  with  greater 
magnificence;  and,  if  you  entered  into  the  defigns  of  his 
wifdom  and  of  his  mercy,  your  weaknefs,  which  in  your 
opinion  juftifies  your  murmurs,  would  conftitute  the  fweet- 
eft  confolation  of  your  fufferings. 

Lord,  would  you  fay  to  him,  I  afk  not  that  proud  rea- 
fon,  which  feeks  in  the  glory  of  fuffering  with  conftancy, 
the  whole  confolation  of  its  pains  :  I  afk  not  from  thee 
that  infenfibility  of  heart,  which  either  feels  not,  or  con- 
temns its  misfortunes.  Leave  me,  O  Lord,  that  weak, 
and  timid  reafon,  that  tender  and  feeling  heart,  which  feems 
fo  little  fitted  to  fuftain  its  tribulations  and  fufferings  ;  on- 
ly increafe  thy  confolations  and  favours.  The  more  I  mail 
appear  weak  in  the  fight  of  men,  the  greater  wilt  thou  ap- 
pear in  my  weaknefs  ;  the  more  fhall  the  children  ot  the 
age  admire  the  power  of  faith,  which  alone  can  exalt  the 
weakeft  and  mod  timid  fouls  to  that  point  of  conftancy  and 
firmnefs,  to  which  all  philofophy  hath  never  been  able  to 
attain.  Firfl  pretext,  taken  in  the  weaknefs  of  man  con- 
futed ;  we  have  now  to  expofe  the  illufion  of  the  fecond, 
which  is  founded  on  the  excefs,  or  the  nature  of  the  afflic- 
tions themfeives* 

Part  II.  Nothing  is  more  ufualwith  perfons  afHifted  by 
Cod,  than  to  juflify  their  complaints  and  their  murmurs 
by  the  excefs,  or  the  nature  of  their  afflictions.  We  al- 
ways wifli  our  crofles  to  have  no  refemblance  to  thofe  ot 

others ; 


352  SERMON     XII. 

others  ;  and  left  the  example  of  their  fortitude  and  of  their 
faith  condemn  us,  we  feek  out  differences  in  our  grievan- 
ces, in  order  to  juftify  that  of  our  difpofitions  and  of  our 
conduct.  We  perfuade  ourfelves  that  we  could  bear  with 
refignation,  croffes  of  any  other  defcription  ;  but  that  thofe 
with  which  we  are  overwhelmed  by  the  Lord,  are  of  fuch 
a  nature  as  to  preclude  confolation  ;  that  the  more  we  ex- 
amine the  lot  of  others,  the  more  do  we  find  our  own  mis- 
fortune lingular,  and  our  fituation  unexampled  ;  and,  that 
it  is  impoflible  to  preferve  patience  and  ferenity  in  a  ftate, 
where  chance  feems  to  have  collected  folely  for  us  a  thou- 
fand  afflicting  circumftances,  which  never  before  had  hap- 
pened to  others. 

But,  to  take  from  felf-love,  a  defence  fo  weak,  and  fo 
unworthy  of  faith,  I  would  have  only  forthwith  to  anfwer 
you,  that  the  more  extraordinary  our  afflictions  appear,  the 
lefs  ought  we  to  believe  them  the  effects  of  chance ;  the 
more  evidently  ought  we  to  fee  in  them,  the  fecret  and  in- 
fcrutable  arrangements  of  a  God  fingulary  watchful  over 
our  deftiny ;  the  more  fhould  we  prefume  that,  under 
events  fo  new,  he  doubtlefs  concealeth  new  views,  and 
lingular  defigns  of  mercy  upon  our  foul ;  the  more  fhould 
we  fay  to  ourfelves,  that  he  confequently  meaneth  us  not 
to  perifh  with  the  multitude,  which  is  the  party  of  the  re- 
probate, feeing  that  he  leadeth  us  by  ways  fo  uncommon 
and  fo  little  trodden.  This  Angularity  of  misfortunes 
ought,  in  the  eyes  of  our  faith,  to  be  a  foothing  diftinc- 
tion  :  he  hath  always  conducted  his  chofen,  in  matter  of 
affliction,  as  well  as  in  other  things,  by  new  and  extraor- 
dinary ways.  What  melancholy  and  furprifing adventures 
in  the  life  of  a  Noah,  a  Lot,  a  Jofeph,  a  Mofes,  and  a 
Job?  Trace,  from  age  to  age,  the  hiftory  of  the  juft,  and 
you  will  always  find  in  their  various  viciffitudes,  fomething, 

I  know 


ON    AFFLICTIONS.  353 

I  know  not  what  of  lingular  and  incredible,  which  has 
daggered  even  the  beliet  of  the  fubfequent  ages.  Thus, 
the  lefs  your  afflictions  refemble  thofe  of  others,  the  more 
mould  you  confider  them  as  the  afflictions  of  God's  cho» 
fen  :  they  are  ftamped  with  the  mark  of  the  juft  :  they 
enter  into  that  tradition  of  fingular  calamities,  which  from 
the  beginning  of  ages  forms  their  hiftory.  Battles  loft, 
when  victory  feemed  certain ;  cities  looked  upon  as  im- 
pregnable, fallen  at  the  fole  approach  of  the  enemy  ;  a 
kingdom,  once  the  moft  flourilhing  in  Europe,  ftricker* 
with  every  evil  which  the  Lord  in  his  wrath  can  pour  out 
upon  the  people  ;  the  court  filled  with  mourning,  and  all 
the  royal  race  almoft  extin£t;  fuch,  Sire,  is  what  the 
Lord  in  his  mercy  referved  for  your  piety ;  and  fuch  are 
the  unprecedented  misfortunes  which  he  prepared  for  you, 
to  purify  the  profperities  of  a  reign,  the  moft  brilliant  in 
our  annals.  The  Angularity  of  the  unfortunate  events 
with  which  God  affli&eth  you,  is  intended  for  the  fole 
purpofe  of  rendering  you  equally  pious  as  a  Chriflian,  as 
you  have  been  great  as  a  King.  It  would  feem,  that  every- 
thing was  to  be  fingular  in  your  reign  ;  the  profperities,  as 
the  misfortunes  ;  in  order  that,  after  your  glory  before  men, 
nothing  fhould  be  wanting  to  your  piety  before  God.  It 
is  a  ftnking  example,  prepared  by  his  goodnefs,  for  oujr 
age. 

And  behold,  my  dear  hearer,  a  ftriking  inftance,  both 
to  inftruft  and  to  confute  you,  when  you  complain  of  the 
excefs  of  your  misfortunes  and  of  your  fufTerings.  The 
more  God  afflicleth,  the  greater  is  his  love  and  his  watch- 
fulnefs  over  you.  More  common  misfortunes  might  have 
appeared  to  you  as  the  confequences  merely  of  natural  cau* 
fes :  and  though  all  events  are  conducted  by  the  fecret 
fprings  of  his  Providence,  you  might  perhaps  have  had 

Vol,  L  W  w  room 


3<54 


SERMON      XII. 


room  to  fuppofe,  that  the  Lord  had  no  particular  defigns 
upon  you,  in  providing  for  you  only  certain  afflictions 
which  happen  every  day  to  the  reft  of  men.  But,  in  the 
grievous  and  fingular  fituation  in  which  he  placeth  you, 
you  can  no  longer  hide  from  yourfelf,  that  his  regards  are 
fixed  on  you  alone,  and  that  you  are  the  fpecial  objeft  of 
his  mercitul  defigns. 

Now,  what  more  confoling  in  our  fufferings  ?  God  feeth 
me ;  he  numbereth  my  fighs ;  he  weigheth  mine  af- 
flictions ;  he  beholdeth  my  tears  to  flow ;  he  maketh  them 
fubfervient  to  mine  eternal  fanftification.  Since  his  hand 
hath  weighed  fo  heavily,  and  in  fo  fingular  way  upon  me, 
and  fince  no  earthly  refource  feems  now  to  be  left  me>  I 
confider  myfelf,  as  having  at  laft  become  an  obje£t.  more 
worthy  of  his  cares  and  of  his  regards.  Ah!  If  I  ft i  1 1 
enjoyed  a  ferene  and  happy  fituation,  his  looks  would  no 
longer  be  upon  me  ;  he  would  neglecl  me,  and  I  fhould  be 
blended  before  him  with  fo  many  others,  who  are  the  prof- 
perous  of  the  earth.  Beloved  fufferings,  which,  in  de- 
priving me  of  all  human  aids,  reftore  to  me  my  God,  and 
render  him  mine  only  refource  in  all  my  forrows  !  Pre- 
cious affli&ions,  which,  in  turning  me  afide  from  all  crea- 
tures, are  the  caufe  that  I  now  become  the  continual  ob- 
ject of  the  remembrance  and  of  the  mercies  of  my  Lord  ! 

I  might  reply  to  you,  in  the  fecond  place,  that  common 
and  momentary  affli&ions  would  have  aroufed  our  faith  but 
for  an  inftant.  We  would  foon  have  found,  in  every 
thing  around  us,  a  thoufand  refources  to  obliterate  the  re- 
membrance of  that  flight  misfortune.  Plefaures,  human 
confolations,  the  new  events  which  the  world  is  con- 
tinually offering  to  our  fight,  would  foon  have  beguiled 
«ur  forrow,  and  reitored  our  relifh  for  the  world  and  for 

its 


ON  AFFLICTIONS.  ^55 

its  vain  amufements  ;  and  our  heart,  always  in  concert 
with  all  the  objects  which  flatter  it,  would  foon  have  been 
tired  of  its  fighs  and  of  its  forrow.  But  the  Lord,  in 
fending  afflictions  in  which  religion  alone  can  become  our 
refource,  hath  meant  to  preclude  all  return  towards  the 
world,  and  to  place  betwixt  our  weaknefs  and  us  a  barrier 
which  can  never  be  fhaken  by  either  time  or  accidents  ;  he 
hath  anticipated  our  inconftancy,  in  rendering  precautions 
neceffary  to  us,  which  might  not  perhaps  have  always  ap- 
peared equally  ufeful.  He  read  in  the  character  of  our 
heart,  that  our  fidelity  in  flying  the  dangers  of  and  feparat- 
ing  ourfelves  from  the  world,  would  not  extend  beyond 
our  forrow ;  that  the  fame  moment  which  beheld  us  confol- 
ed  would  witnefs  our  change ;  that,  in  forgetting  our 
chagrins,  we  would  foon  have  forgetten  our  pious  refolu- 
tions;  and  that  fhort-lived  afflictions  would  have  made  us 
only  fhort-lived  righteous.  He  hath  therefore  eftablilhed  the 
continuance  of  our  piety  upon  that  of  our  fufferings ;  he 
hath  lodged  fixed  and  conftant  afflictions,  as  fureties  for 
the  conftancy  of  our  faith  ;  and  left,  in  leaving  our  foul 
in  our  own  power,  we  fhould  again  reftore  it  to  the  world, 
he  hath  refolved  to  render  it  fafe,  by  attaching  it  for  ever 
to  the  foot  of  the  crofs.  We  are  thoroughly  fenfible  our- 
felves that  a  great  blow  was  required  to  roufe  us  from  our 
lethargy ;  that  we  ha4  been  little  benefited  by  the  flight 
afflictions  with  which  the  Lord  had  hitherto  been  pleafed 
to  vifit  us  ;  and  that  fcarcely  had  he  ftricken  us,  when  we 
had  forgotten  the  hand  that  had  inflicted  fo  falutary  an 
wound.  Of  what  then,  O  my  God,  fhould  I  complain  ? 
That  excefs  which  I  find  in  my  troubles,  is  an  excefs  of 
thy  mercies.  I  do  not  confider  that  the  lefs  thou  fpareft  the 
patience  the  more  thou  hafteneft  his  cure,  and  that  all  the 
utility  and  all  the  fecurity  of  our  fufferings  confifls  in  the 
rigour  of  thy  blows.  My  fweeteft  confolation  in  the  af- 
fixing 


$$6  SERMON    XII. 

flitting  ftate  in  which  thy  providence  O  Lord,  hath  been 
pleafed  to  place  me,  fhall  then  be,  in  future,  to  reflect:  that 
at  leaft  thou  fpareft  me  not ;  that  thou  meafureft  thy  rigours 
and  thy  remedies  upon  my  wants,  and  not  upon  my  defires; 
and  that  thou  haft  more  regard  to  the  fecurity  of  my  falva- 
tion  than  to  the  injuftice  of  my  complaints. 

I  might  ftill  reply  to  you  :  Enter  into  judgment  with  the 
Lord,  you  who  complain  of  the  excefs  of  your  fuffer- 
ings ;  place  in  a  balance,  on  the  one  fide  your  crimes,  and 
on  the  other  your  afflictions ;  meafure  the  rigour  of  all 
his  chaftifements  upon  the  enormity  of  your  offences  ; 
compare  that  which  you  fuffer  with  that  which  you  ought 
to*  fuffer;  fee  if  your  afflictions  go  the  fame  length  as  your 
fenfelefs  pleafures  have  done  ;  it  the  keennefs  and  the  con- 
tinuance of  your  forrows  correfpond  with  thofe  of  your 
profane  debaucheries  ;  if  the  flate  of  reftraint  in  which 
you  live  equals  the  licentioufnefs  and  the  depravity  of  your 
former  manners;  and  fhould  your  afflictions  be  found  to 
over-balance  your  iniquities,  then  boldly  reproach  the  Lord 
tvith  his  injuftice.  You  judge  of  your  fufferings  by  your 
inclinations,  but  judge  of  them  by  your  crimes-  What ! 
not  a  fingle  moment  of  your  worldly  life  but  what  has  per- 
haps made  you  deferving  of  an  eternal  mifery,  and  you 
murmur  againft  the  goodnefs  of  a  God  who  commuteth 
thefe  everlafting  torments,  fo  often  merited,  into  a  few 
rapid  and  momentary  afflictions,  and  even  againft  which 
the  confolations  of  faith  hold  out  fo  many  refources  ! 

What  injuftice!  what  ingratitude!  Ah!  have  a  care, 
Unfaithful  foul,  left  the  Lord  liften  to  thee  in  his  wrath  ; 
have  a  care,  left  he  punifh  thy  paffions,  by  providing  for 
thee,  here  below,  whatever  is  favourable  to  them  ;  left 
thou  be  not  found  worthy  in  his  fight  of  thcfe  temporal  af- 
flictions ; 


ON  AFFLICTIONS.  357 

fli£Hons  ;  left  he  referve  the  time  of  his  juftice  and  of  his 
vengeance,  and  that  he  treat  thee  like  thofe  unfortunate 
victims  who  are  ornamented  with  flowers,  who  are  nurfed 
and  fattened  with  fo  much  care,  only  becaufe  they  are 
deftined  for  the  facrifice,  and  that  theknifewhichis  to  flab, 
and  the  pile  which  is  to  confume  them,  are  in  readinefs 
upon  the  altar.  He  is  terrible  in  his  gifts  as  in  his  wrath ; 
and  feeing  that  guilt  muft  be  punifhed  either  with  fleeting 
punifhments  here  below,  or  with  eternal  pains  after  this 
life,  nothing  ought  to  appear  more  fearful  in  the  eyes  of 
faith  than  to  be  a  finner,  and  yet  profperous  on  the  earth. 

Great  God  !  let  it  be  here  then  for  me  the  time  of  thy 
vengeance  ;  and  fince  my  crimes  cannot  go  unpunifhed,  haf- 
ten,  O  Lord,  to  fatisfy  thy  juftice.  The  more  I  am  fpar- 
ed  here,  the  more  fhalt  thou  appear  to  me  as  a  terrible  God, 
who  refufeth  to  let  me  go  for  fome  fleeting  afflictions,  and 
whofe  wrath  can  be  appealed  by  nothing  but  mine  eternal 
mifery.  Lend  not  thine  ear  to  the  cries  of  my  grief,  nor 
to  the  lamentations  of  a  corrupted  heart,  which  knows  not 
its  true  interefts.  I  difown,  Lord,  thefe  too  human  fighs 
which  the  fadnefs  of  my  ftate  ftill  continually  forces  from 
me ;  thefe  carnal  tears  which  affliftion  fo  often  maketh  me 
to  fhed  in  thy  prefence.  Liften  not  to  the  intreaties  which 
I  have  hitherto  made  to  obtain  an  end  to  my  fufferings  ;  com- 
plete rather  thy  vengeance  upon  me  here  below  ;  referve 
nothing  for  that  dreadful  eternity,  where  thy  chaftifements 
fhall  be  without  end,  and  without  meafure.  I  afk  thee  on- 
ly to  fuftain  my  weaknefs  ;  and,  in  fhedding  forrows 
through  my  life,  fhed  likewife  upon  it  thy  grace,  which 
confoles,  and  recorapenfes  with  fuch  ufury,  an  afflicled 
heart. 

To 


3^8  SERMON     XII. 

To  all  thefe  truths,  fo  condoling  for  an  afflicTed  foul,  I 
might  ftill  add,  that  our  fufFering  appear  exceflive  only 
through  the  excefs  of  the  corruption  of  our  heart ;  that 
the  keennefs  of  our  aftliclions  fprings  lolely  from  that  of 
our  paffions  ;  that  it  is  the  impropriety  of  our  attachments 
to  the  obje&s  loft,  which  renders  their  lofs  fo  grievous ; 
that  we  are  keenly  afflicted  only  when  we  had  been  keenly 
attached  ;  and  that  the  excefs  of  our  affli&ions  is  always 
the  punifhment  of  the  excels  of  our  iniquitous  loves.  I 
might  add,  that  we  always  magnify  whatever  regards  our- 
felves  ;  that  the  very  idea  of  Angularity  in  our  misfortunes, 
flatters  our  vanity,  at  the  fame  time  that  it  authorifes  our 
murmurs ;  that  we  never  wifh  to  refemble  others  ;  that  we 
feel  a  fecret  pleafure  in  perfuading  ourfelves  that  we  are 
fingle  of  our  kind :  we  wifh  all  the  world  to  be  occupied 
with  our  misfortune  alone,  as  if  we  were  the  only  unfortu- 
nate of  the  earth.  Yes,  my  brethren,  the  evils  of  others 
are  nothing  in  our  eyes  :  we  fee  not  that  all  around  us 
are,  perhaps,  more  unhappy  than  we ;  that  we  have  a 
thoufand  refources  in  our  afflictions,  which  are  denied  to 
others  ;  that  we  derive  a  thoufand  confolations  in  our  in- 
firmities, from  wealth,  and  the  number  of  perfons  watch- 
ful over  our  fmalleft  wants ;  that,  in  the  lofs  of  a  perfon 
dear  to  us,  a  thoufand  means  of  foftening  its  bitternefs 
ftill  remain  from  the  fituation  in  which  Providence  hath 
placed  us  ;  that,  in  domeftic  divifions,  we  find  comforts 
in  the  tendernefs  and  in  the  confidence  of  our  friends, 
which  we  had  been  unable  to  procure  among  our  relatives ; 
laftly,  that  we  find  a  thoufand  human  indemnifications  to 
our  misfortunes,  and  that,  were  we  to  place  in  a  balance, 
on  the  one  fide  our  confolations,  and  on  the  other  our  fuf- 
ferings,  we  fhould  find,  that  there  are  flill  remaining  in 

our 


ON  AFFLICTIONS. 


359 


our  ftate  more  comforts,  capable  of  corrupting  us,  than 
crofles  calculated  to  fan&ify  us. 

Thus,  it  is  almoft  folely  the  great  and  the  profperous  of 
the  world,  who  complain  of  the  excefs  of  their  misfor- 
tunes and  fufferings.  The  unfortunate  majority  of  the 
earth,  who  are  born  to,  and  live  in  penury  and  diflrefs, 
pafs  in  filence,  and  almoft  in  the  neglecl  of  their  fuffer- 
ings, their  wretched  days  :  the  fmalleft  gleam  of  comfort 
and  eafe  reflores  ferenity  and  cheerfulnefs  to  their  heart  : 
the  flighteft  confolations  obliterate  their  troubles  :  a  mo- 
ment of  pleafure  makes  up  for  a  whole  year  of  fufferance: 
while  thofe  fortunate  and  fenfual  fouls,  amidft  all  their 
abundance,  are  feen  to  reckon,  as  an  unheard-of  misfor- 
tune, the  difappointment  of  a  fingle  defire ;  we  view 
them  turning  into  a  martyrdom  for  themfelves,  the  weari- 
nefs  and  even  the  fatiety  of  pleafures ;  drawing  from  ima- 
ginary'evils,  the  fource  of  a  thoufand  real  vexations  ;  feel- 
ing tenfold  more  anguifh  for  the  failure  of  a  fingle  acqui- 
fition,  than  pleafure  in  the  pofleflion  of  all  they  enjoy  ;  in 
a  word,  confidering,  as  the  greateft  of  misfortunes,  the 
leaft  interruption,  however  trifling,  to  their  fenfual  hap- 
pinefs. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  it  is  the  great  and  powerful  alone 
who  complain  ;  who  continually  imagine  themfelves  the 
only  unhappy,  who  never  have  enough  of  comforters  ; 
who,  on  the  flighteft  reverfe,  fee  aflembled  around  them, 
not  only  thofe  worldly  friends  whom  their  rank  and  for- 
tune procure,  but  likewife  all  the  pious  and  enlightened 
minifters  of  the  gofpel,  diftinguifhed  by  the  public  efteem, 
and  whofe  holy  inftruclions  would,  in  general,  be  much 
better  beftowed,  on  fo  many  other  unfortunate  individu- 
als, who  are  deftitute  of  every  worldly  refource  and  reli- 

gioixG 


360  SERMON     XII. 

gious  afliftan.ee,  and  to  whom  they  would  likewife  be  fo 
much  more  beneficial.  But,  before  the  tribunal  of  Jefus 
Chrift,  your  afflictions  fhall  be  weighed  with  thofe  of  fo 
many  of  your  unfortunate  fellow-creatures,  and  whofe 
misfortunes  are  fo  much  the  more  dreadful,  as  they  are 
more  hidden  and  more  neglected ;  it  will  then  be  demand- 
ed at  you,  if  it  belonged  to  you  to  complain  and  to  mur- 
mur :  it  will  be  demanded,  if  you  were  entitled  to  lay 
fuch  ftrefs  upon  calamities,  which  would  have  been  confo- 
lations  to  fo  many  others  :  if  it  was  your  bufinefs  to  mur- 
mur fo  highly  againft  a  God,  who  treated  you  with  fuch 
indulgence,  while  his  hand  was  fo  heavy  on  fuch  an  infini- 
ty of  unhappy  fellow-creatures  :  if  they  had  lefs  right  to 
the  riches,  and  to  the  pleafures  of  the  earth,  than  you  :  if 
their  foul  was  no  lefs  noble,  and  lefs  precious  belore  God 
than  yours  ;  in  a  word,  if  they  were  either  more  criminal, 
or  of  another  nature  than  you  ? 

Alas !  It  is  not  only  our  own  felf-love,  but  it  is  likewife 
our  hardnefs  towards  our  brethren,  which  magnifies  to  us 
our  own  misfortunes.  Let  us  enter  thofe  poor  unprovided 
dwellings,  where  fhame  conceals  fuch  bitter  and  affecting 
poverty ;  let  us  view  thofe  afylums  of  public  compafiion, 
where  every  calamity  feems  to  reign  :  it  is  there  that  we 
fliall  learn  to  appreciate  our  own  afflictions  :  it  is  there  that 
touched  to  the  heart  with  the  excefs  of  fo  many  evils,  we 
{hall  blufii  to  give  even  a  name  to  the  flightnefs  of  ours ; 
it  is  there  that  our  murmurs  againft  Heaven  fhall  be  chang- 
ed into  thankfgivings,  and  that,  lefs  taken  up  with  the 
flight  croffes,  fent  us  by  the  Lord,  than  with  fo  many 
others  from  which  he  fpareth  us,  we  fhall  begin  to  dread 
his  indulgence,  far  from  complaining  of  his  feverity.  My 
God  !  how  awful  fhall  be  the  judgment  of  the  great  and 
the  mighty,    fmce,    befides  the  inevitable  abufe  of  their 

profperity 


ON    AFFLICTIONS.  361 

profperity,  the  affliction,  which  ought  to  have  fan&ified  its 
ufe,  and  expiated  its  abufes,  fhall  become  themfelves  their 
greatest  crimes  J 

But  how  employ  afflictions  in  fan£Hfying  the  dangers  of 
their  flation,  or  in  working  out  falvation,  fince  they  feem 
to  caft  fuch  invincible  obftacles  in  their  way  ?  This  is  the 
laft  pretext  drawn  from  the  incompatibility  which  afflic- 
tions feem  to  have  with  our  falvation. 

Part  III.  It  is  very  furprifing,  that  the  corruption  of 
the  human  heart  finds,  even  in  fufferances,  obftacles  to  fal- 
vation, and  that  Chriftians  continually  juftify  their  mur- 
murs againft  the  wifdom  and  the  goodnefs  of  God,  by  ac- 
cufinghim  of  fending  croffes  incompatible  with  their  eter- 
nal faivation.  Nothing  is  more  common,  however,  in  the 
world,  than  this  iniquitous  language ;  and  when  we  exhort 
the  fouls  afflicled  by  God  to  convert  thefe  fleeting  afflic- 
tions into  the  price  of  heaven  and  eternity,  they  reply, 
that,  in  this  ftate  of  diftrefs,  they  are  incapable  of  every 
thing  ;  that  the  obftacles  and  vexations  which  they  are  con- 
tinually encountering,  far  from  recalling  them  to  order 
and  to  duty,  ferve  only  to  irritate  the  mind,  and  to  harden 
the  heart ;  and  that  tranquillity  muft  be  reftored  before 
they  can  turn  their  thoughts  towards  God, 

Now,  I  fay,  that,  of  all  the  pretexts  employed  in  jufti- 
fication  of  the  unchriftian  ufc  made  of  affiiclions,  this  is 
the  moft  abfurd  and  the  molt  culpable.  The  moft  culpa- 
ble, for  it  is  blafpheming  Providence  to  pretend,  that  k 
places  you  in  fituations  incompatible  with  your  falvation. 
Whatever  it  doth  or  permitteth  here  below,  it  only  doth  or 
permitteth  in  order  to  facilitate  to  men  the  ways  of  eter- 
nal life ;  every  event,  profperous  or  improfperous,  in  the 

Vol.  I.  X  x  mcafure 


l62  SERMON     XII. 

mcafure  of  our  lot,  is  meant  by  it  as  a  mean  of  falvation 
and  ot  fan&ification  ;  all  its  defigns  upon  us  tend  to  that 
fole  purpofe  ;  whatever  we  are,  even  in  the  order  ot  na- 
ture, our  birth,  our  fortune,  our  talents,  our  age,  our  dig- 
nities, our  protectors,  our  fubjecls,  our  mafters :  all  this, 
in  its  views  of  mercy  upon  us,  enters  into  the  impenetra- 
ble defigns  of  our  eternal  fanclification.  All  this  vifible 
world  itfelf,  is  made  only  for  the  age  to  come  :  whatever 
pafTeth,  hath  its  fecret  connexions  with  that  eternal  age, 
where  things  fhall  pafs  no  more ;  whatever  we  fee,  is  only 
the  image  and  truft  of  the  invifible  things.  The  world  is 
worthy  of  the  cares  of  a  wife  and  a  merciful  God,  only  in- 
afmuch  as,  by  fecret  and  adorable  relations,  its  diverfe  re- 
volutions are  to  form  that  heavenly  church,  that  immortal 
aiTembly  ot  chofen,  where  he  fhall  for  ever  be  glorified. 
To  pretend,  then,  that  he  placeth  us  in  fituations,  which 
not  only  have  no  relation  to,  but  are  even  incompatible 
with  our  eternal  interefls,  is  to  make  a  temporal  God  of 
him,  and  to  blafpheme  his  adorable  wifdom. 

But,  not  only  nothing  is  more  culpable  than  this  pretext, 
I  fay,  likewife,  that  nothing  is  more  foolifh  :  for,  it  is  on- 
ly by  detaching  itfelf  from  this  miferable  world,  that  a  foul 
returns  to  God ;  and  nothing,  fays  St.  Augufline,  fo  ef- 
fectually detaches  from  this  miferable  world,  as  when  the 
Lord  fheddeth  falutary  forrows  over  its  dangerous  pleafures. 
"  Lord,"  faid  an  holy  king  of  Judah,  "  I  had  neglecled 
thee  in  profperity  and  in  abundance  ;  the  pleafures  of  roy- 
alty, and  the  fplendour  of  a  long  and  glorious  reign,  had 
corrupted  my  heart  ;  the  flatteries  and  the  deceitful  words 
of  the  wicked,  had  lulled,  me  into  a  profound  and  a  fataf 
fleep  ;  but  thine  hand  hath  been  upon  me,  in  pouring  out 
upon  my  people  all  the  fcourges  of  thy  wrath,  in  raifing 
up  againft  me  mine  own  children  and  fubjecls,  whom  I  had 

loaded 


ON  AFFLICTIONS.  163 

loaded  with  favours ;  and  I  awoke :  thou  haft  humbled 
me,  and  I  have  had  recourfe  to  thee ;  thou  haft  affli&ed 
me,  and  I  have  fought  thee :  and  I  have  found  out  that 
I  ought  not  to  have  my  truft  in  men ;  that  profperity  is  a 
dream  ;  glory  a  miftake ;  the  talents  which  men  admire, 
vices  concealed  under  the  brilliant  outfides  of  human  vir- 
tues ;  the  whole  world,  a  deception  which  feeds  us  with 
only  vain  phantoms,  and  leaves  nothing  folid  in  the  heart ; 
and  that  thou  alone  art  worthy  to  be  ferved,  for  thou  alone 
fbrfakeft  not  thofe  who  ferve  thee." 

Behold  the  moft  natural  effect  of  afflictions  :  they  facili- 
tate all  the  duties  of  religion  ;  hatred  of  the  world  in 
rendering  it  more  difagreeable  to  us ;  indifference  to- 
wards all  creatures,  by  giving  us  experience,  either  of  their 
perfidy  by  infidelities,  or  of  their  frailty  by  unexpected 
lofles  ;  privation  of  pleafures,  by  placing  obftacles  in  their 
way;  the  defire  of  eternal  riches,  and  confoling  returns 
towards  God,  by  leaving  us  almoft  no  confolation  among 
men  :  laftly,  all  the  obligations  of  faith  become  more  ea- 
fy  to  the  afflicted  foul;  his  good  defires  find  fewer  ob- 
ftacles, his  weaknefs  fewer  rocks,  his  faith  more  aids,  his 
lukewarmnefs  more  refources,  his  paflion  more  checks, 
and  even  his  virtue  more  meritorious  opportunities. 

Thus  the  church  was  never  more  fervent  and  purer  than 
when  fhe  was  airlifted ;  the  ages  of  her  fufferings  and  per- 
fections were  the  ages  of  her  fplendor  and  of  her  zeal. 
Tranquillity  afterwards  corrupted  her  manners  ;  her  days 
became  lefs  pure  and  lefs  innocent  as  foon  as  they  became 
more  fortunate  and  powerful  ;  her  glory  ended  almoft  with 
her  misfortunes ;  and  her  peace,  as  the  prophet  faid,  was 
more   bitter,  through  the   licentioufnefs  of  her  children, 

than 


3&f  SERMON     XII. 

than  even  her  troubles  had  ever  been  through  the  barbarity 
of  her  enemies. 


Even  you,  who  complain  that  the  crofTes  with  which 
the  Lord  afflicleth  you  difcourage  you  and  check  any  de- 
fire  of  labouring  towards  your  falvation,  you  well  know 
that  happier  days  have  not  been  for  you,  more  holy  and 
more  faithful  :  you  well  know  that  then,  intoxicated  with 
the  world  and  its  pleafures,  you  lived  in  a  total  negleft  of 
your  God,  and  that  the  comforts  of  your  fituation  were 
the  fpurs  of  your  corruption,  and  the  inftruments  of  your 
iniquitous  defires. 

But  fuch  is  the  perpetual  illufion  of  our  felf-Iove. 
When  fortunate,  when  every  thing  anfwers  to  our  wifhes 
and  the  world  fmiles  upon  us,  then  we  alledge  the  dangers 
of  our  ftate  to  juftify  the  errors  of  our  worldly  manners  : 
we  fay  that  it  is  very  difficult,  at  a  certain  age  and  in  a 
certain  fituation,  when  a  rank  is  to  be  fupported,  and  ap- 
pearances to  be  kept  up  with  the  world,  to  condemn  our- 
felves  to  folitude,  to  prayer,  to  flight  from  pleafures,  and 
to  all  the  duties  of  a  gloomy  and  a  Chriftian  life.  But, 
on  the  other  fide,  when  under  affliclion  ;  when  the  body  is 
ftruck  with  laffitude,  and  fortune  forfakes  us ;  when  our 
friends  deceive,  and  our  maflers  neglecl:  us ;  when  our 
enemies  overpower,  and  our  relations  become  our  perfecu- 
tors  ;  we  complain  that  every  thing  eflranges  us  from  God 
in  this  ftate  of  bitternefs  and  forrow  ;  that  the  mind  is  not 
fufficiently  tranquil  to  devote  any  thoughts  to  falvation  ; 
that  the  heart  is  too  exafperated  to  feel  any  thing  but  its 
own  misfortunes  ;  that  amufements  and  pleafures  now  be- 
come necefTary,  mult  be  fought  to  lull  its  grief,  and  to 
prevent  the  total  lofs  of  reafon,  in  giving  way  to  all  the 

horrors 


ON   AFFLICTIONS,  ofitj 

horrors  of  a  profound  melancholy.  It  is  thus,  O  my 
God!  that  by  our  eternal  contradictions  we  juftify  the 
adorable  ways  of  thy  wifdom  upon  the  lots  of  men,  and 
that  we  provide  for  thy  juflice,  powerful  reafons  to  over- 
throw one  day  the  illufion,  and  the  falfity  of  our  pretexts. 

For,  befides,  be  our  fufferings  what  they  may,  the  hiflo- 
ry  of  religion  holds  out  righteous  characters  to  our  exam- 
ple, who,  in  the  fame  fituation  as  we,  have  held  their  foul 
in  patience,  and  turned  their  afflictions  into  a  refource  of 
falvation.  Do  you  weep  the  lofs  of  a  perfon  dear  to  your 
heart  ?  Judith  in  a  fimilar  affliction,  found  the  increafe  qf 
her  piety  and  faith,  and  changed  the  tears  of  her  widow- 
hood into  thofe  of  retirement  and  penitence.  If  a  pining 
health  render  life  more  gloomy  and  bitter  than  even  death 
itfelf,  Job  found,  in  the  wrecks  of  an  ulcerated  body, 
motives  of  compun&ion,  longings  for  eternity,  and  the 
hopes  of  an  immortal  refurre&ion.  If  your  character  in 
the  world  be  ftained  by  calumnies,  Sufanna  held  out  an 
unfhaken  foul  under  the  blackeft  afperfions ;  and  knowing 
that  fhe  had  the  Lord  in  teilimony  of  her  innocence,  fhe 
left  to  him  the  care  of  avenging  her  upon  the  injuftice  of 
men.  If  your  fortune  be  theviclimof  treachery,  David, 
dethroned,  confidered  the  humiliation  of  his  new  ftate  as 
the  juft  punifhment  of  the  abufe  he  had  made  of  his  paft 
profperity.  If  an  unfortunate  union  become  your  daily 
crofs,  Efther  found,  in  the  caprices  and  frenzies  of  a 
faithlefs  hufband,  the  proof  of  her  virtue,  and  the  merit 
of  her  meeknefs  and  patience.  In  a  word,  place  yourfelf 
in  the  moft  difmal  fituations,  and  you  will  find  righteous, 
who  have  wrought  out  their  falvation  in  the  fame  ;  and 
without  applying  to  former  ages  for  examples,  look  around, 
(the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  not  yet  fhortened,)  and  you  will 
fee  fouls  who,  loaded  with  the  fame  croffes  as  you,  make 

a  very 


$66  SfRMON     XII. 

a  very  different  life  of  them,  and  find  means  of  falvation 
in  the  very  fame  events,  where  you  find  only  a  rock  to 
your  innocence,  or  a  pretext  for  your  murmurs.  What  do 
I  fay  ?  you  will  fee  fouls  whom  the  mercy  of  God  hath 
recalled  from  their  errors  by  pouring  out  falutary  forrows 
upon  their  life  ;  by  overturning  an  eftablifhed  fortune  ;  by 
chilling  an  envied  favour  ;  by  fapping  an  health,  apparently 
unalterable;  by  terminating  a  profane  connection  through  a 
glaring  inconflancy;  You  yourfelf,  then,  a  witnefs  of  their 
change  and  of  their  converfion,  have  leffened  the  merit  of 
it,  from  the  facilities  provided  by  chagrin  and  afflictions ; 
you  have  placed  little  confidence  in  a  virtue  which  misfor- 
tunes had  rendered  as  if  neceffary;  you  have  faid  that  it 
required  little  exertion  to  forfake  a  world  which  was  become 
tired  of  us  ;  that  at  the  firft  gleam  of  good-fortune  plea- 
fures  would  foon  be  feen  to  fucceed  to  all  this  great  mow  of 
devotion,  and  that  they  had  devoted  themfelves  to  God 
only  becaufe  they  had  nothing  better  to  do.  Unjuft  that 
you  are  !  and  at  prefent,  when  there  is  queftion  of  return- 
ing to  him  in  your  affliction,  you  fay  that  it  is  not  pof- 
fible  ;  that  an  heart  preffed  and  bowed  down  with  forrow 
is  incapable  of  paying  attention  to  any  thing  but  his  grief, 
and  that  we  are  more  hardened  than  touched  in  this  ftate 
of  diftrefs  and  misfortune  ;  and  after  having  cenfured  and 
caft  a  ftain  upon  the  piety  of  afflicled  fouls,  as  a  meafure 
top  eafy  and  to  which  little  merit  is  attached,  as  it  required 
almoft  no  exertion,  you  excufe  yourfelf  from  adopting  it 
in  your  affliction,  and  from  making  a  Chriftian  ufe  of  it, 
becaufe  you  pretend  that  it  is  not  poffible  in  it  to  pay  at- 
tention to  any  thing  but  to  your  forrow.  Anfwer,  or  ra- 
ther tremble  left  you  find  the  rock  of  your  falvation  in  a 
fituation  which  ought  to  be  its  fureft  refource.  After  ha- 
ving abufed  profperity,  tremble  left  you  now  make  your 
misfortunes  the  fatal  inftruments  of  your  deftru&ion,  and 

left 


ON   AFFLICTIONS.  367 

left  you  fhut  upon  yourfelf  all  the  ways  of  goodnefs  which 
God  might  open  to  you  in  order  to  recal  you  to  him. 

When,  O  my  God !  will  the  time  come  that  my  foul, 
exalting  itfelf  through  faith  above  all  creatures,  fhall  no 
longer  worfhip  but  thee  in  them  ;  fhall  no  longer  attribute 
events  to  them  of  which  thou  alone  art  the  author  ;  fhall 
recognife  in  the  diverfe  fituations  m  which  thou  placed 
it  the  adorable  arrangements  of  thy  providence ;  and, 
even  amid  all  its  erodes,  (hall  tafte  that  unalterable  peace 
which  the  world  with  all  its  pleafures  can  never  beflow  ? 

How  melancholy,  in  effect,  my  brethren,  when  vifited 
and  afflicted  of  God,  to  feek  for  confolation  in  rifmg  up 
againft  the  hand  which  ftrikes  us :  in  murmuring  againft 
his  juftice  ;  in  calling  ourfelves  off  from  him,  as  it  were  in 
a  frenzy  of  rage,  defpair,  and  revenge,  and  to  feek  confo- 
tation  in  our  own  madnefs  !  What  an  horrible  fituation  is 
that  of  a  fooliih  foul,  whom  God  afflicteth,  and  who  for 
confolation  flies  in  the  face  ot  his  God  ;  feeks  to  eafe  his 
troubles,  in  multiplying  his  trefpaffes  :  yields  himfelf  up  to 
debauchery,  in  order  to  drown  his  forrows;  and  make  the 
overwhelming  fadnefs  of  guilt,  an  horrible  refource  againft 
the  fadnefs  of  his  afflictions  ! 

No,  my  brethren,  religion  alone  can  truly  confole  us  in 
our  misfortunes.  Philofophy  checked  complaints ;  but  it 
did  not  foften  the  anguifh.  The  world  lulls  cares,  but  it 
does  not  cure  them  :  and  amidft  all  its  fenfelefs  pleafures, 
the  fecret  fting  of  fadnefs  always  remains  buried  in  the 
heart.  God  alone  can  comfort  our  afflictions  ;  and  is  an- 
other necefTary  to  a  faithful  foul  ?  Weak  creatures !  You 
may  eafily,  by  vain  fpeeches,  and  by  that  cuftomary  lan- 
guage of  compaflion  and  tendernefs,  make  yourfelves  to  be 

undei  flood 


368  SERMON     XII. 

underflood  by  the  ears  of  the  body  ;  but,  there  is  none  but 
the  God  or  all  confolation  who  can  fpeak  to  the  heart : 
in  the  excefs  of  my  pains,  I  vainly  fought  confolation 
among  ye  :  I  have  iharpened  my  fufFerings,  while  thinking 
to  f often  them,  and  thy  vain  confolations  have  been  to  me 
only  frefh  forrows. 

Great  God  !  It  is  at  thy  feet,  that  I  mean  henceforth  to 
pour  out  all  the  bitternefs  of  mine  heart :  it  is  with  thee 
alone,  that  I  mean  to  forget  all  my  grievances,  all  my  fuf- 
ferings,  all  creatures.  Hitherto  I  have  given  way  to  cha- 
grins and  to  fadnefs  altogether  human  ;  a  thoufand  times 
have  I  wifhed  that  thy  wifdom  were  regulated  by  the  mad 
projects  of  my  heart  ;  my  thoughts  have  wandered  ;  my 
mind  hath  formed  a  thoufand  delufive  dreams  ;  my  heart 
hath  purfued  thefe  vain  phantoms  :  I  have  longed  for  an 
higher  birth,  more  fortune,  talents,  fame,  and  health  :  I 
have  lulled  my  felt  in  thefe  ideas  of  an  imaginary  happinefs. 
Fool  that  I  am  !  As  if  I  were  capable  ot  altering  at  my  plea- 
fure  the  immutable  order  of  thy  Providence  !  As  if  I  had 
been  wifer,  or  more  enlightened  than  thee,  O  my  God, 
upon  my  true  interefls  !  I  have  never  entered  into  thine 
eternal  defigns  upon  me  ;  I  have  never  confidered  the  for- 
rows of  my  fituation  as  entering  into  the  order  of  mine 
eternal  deftination  ;  and,  even  to  this  day,  my  joys  and 
my  forrows  have  depended  upon  the  created  alone  :  confe- 
quently  my  joys  have  never  been  tranquil,  and  my  for- 
rows have  always  been  without  refource.  But  henceforth, 
O  my  God  !  thou  fhalt  be  mine  only  comforter  ;  and  I 
will  feek  in  the  meditation  of  thy  holy  law,  and  in  my 
lubmiflion  to  thine  eternal  decrees,  thofe  folid  confolations 
which  I  have  never  found  in  the  world,  and  which,  in 
foftening  our  afflictions  here  below,  fecure  to  us,  at  the 
fame  time,  their  immortal  reward  hereafter. 

SERMON 


SERMON  XIIL 

ON  PRAYER. 

Matthew  xv.  22. 

Have  mercy  on  me,   0  Lord,  thou  Son  of  David. 

O  uch  is  the  lamentation  of  a  foul  touched  with  its  wretch- 
ednefs,  and  which  addreffes  itfelf  to  the  fovereign  phyfi- 
cian,  in  whofe  companion  alone  it  hopes  to  find  relief. 
This  was  formerly  the  prayer  of  a  woman  of  Canaan,  who 
wifhed  to  obtain  from  the  Son  of  David  the  recovery  of 
her  daughter.  Perfuaded  of  his  power,  and  expe&ing  eve- 
ry thing  from  his  ulual  goodnefs  to  the  unfortunate,  (he 
knew  no  furer  way  of  rendering  him  propitious,  than  the 
cry  of  her  affliction,  and  the  fimple  tale  of  her  misfortune. 
And  this  is  the  model  which  the  church  now  propofes  to 
us,  in  order  to  animate  and  to  inflruft  us  how  to  pray  ; 
that  is  to  fay,  in  order  to  render  more  pleafing,  and  more 
familiar  to  us  this  mod  effential  duty  of  Chriftian  piety. 

For,  my  brethren,  to  pray,  is  the  condition  of  man  ;  it 
is  the  firft  duty  of  man  ;  it  is  the  fole  refource  of  man  ;  it 
is  the  whole  confolation  of  man  ;  and,  to  fpeak  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  is  the  whole  man. 

Vol.  I.  Y  y  Yes, 


370  SERMON      XIII. 

Yes,  if  the  entire  world,  in  the  midft  of  which  we  live, 
be  but  one  continued  temptation ;  if  all  the  fituations  in 
which  we  may  be,  and  all  the  obje£ts  which  environ  us, 
feem  united  with  our  corruption,  for  thepurpofe  of  either 
weakening  or  feducing  us;  if  riches  corrupt,  and  poverty 
exafperate ;  if  profperity  exalt,  and  affliction  deprefs  ;  if 
bufinefs  prey  upon,  and  eafe  render  effeminate ;  if  the  fci- 
ences  inflate,  and  ignorance  lead  us  into  error ;  if  mutual 
intercourfe  trivially  engage  us  too  much,  and  folitude  leave 
us  too  much  to  ourfelves ;  if  pleafures  feduce,  and  pious 
works  excite  our  pride  ;  if  health  aroufe  the  paflions,  and 
ficknefs  nourifh  either  lukewarmnefs,  or  murmurings  ;  in 
a  word,  if,  fince  the  fall  of  nature,  every  thing  in,  or 
around  us,  be  a  frefh  danger  to  be  dreaded  ;  in  a  fituation 
fo  deplorable,  what  hope  of  falvation,  O  my  God  1  could 
there  be  ftill  remaining  to  man,  if,  from  the  bottom  of  his 
wretchednefs,  he  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  make  his  la- 
mentations, to  be  continually  mounting  towards  the  throne 
of  thy  mercy,  in  order  to  prevail  that  thou  thyfelf  may 
come  to  his  aid ;  that  thou  may  interfere  to  put  a  check 
upon  his  pafEons,  to  clear  up  his  errors,  to  fuftain  his 
weaknefs,  to  leflen  his  temptations,  to  abridge  his  hours  ot 
trials,  and  to  fave  him  from  his  backflidings  ? 

The  Chriflian  is  therefore  a  man  of  prayer;  his  origin, 
his  fituation,  his  nature,  his  wants,  his  place  of  abode,  all 
inform  him  that  prayer  is  neceflary.  The  church  herfelf, 
in  which  he  is  incorporated  through  the  grace  of  regenera- 
tion, a  Granger  here  below,  is  always  plaintive  and  lull  of 
lamentation  ;  fhe  recognifes  her  children  only  through  their 
fighs  which  they  direcl  towards  their  country;  and  the 
Chriftian  who  does  not  pray,  cuts  himfelf  off  from  the  af- 
fcmbly  of  the  holy,  and  is  worfe  than  an  unbeliever. 


How 


ON  PRAYER.  371 

How  comes  it  then,  my  brethren,  that  a  duty  not  only 
fo  efTential,  but  even  fo  confoling  tor  man,  is  at  prefent 
fo  much  negle&ed  ?  How  comes  it  that  it  is  confidered  ei- 
ther as  a  gloomy  and  tirefome  duty,  or  as  appropriated  fole- 
ly  for  retired  fouls ;  infomuch  that  our  inftruftions  upon 
prayer  fcarcely  intereft  thofe  who  liften  to  us,  who  feem 
as  if  perfuaded  that  they  are  more  adapted  to  the  cloifter 
than  to  the  court  ? 

Whence  comes  this  abufe,  and  this  univerfal  negleft  in 
the  world  of  prayer  ?  From  two  pretexts,  which  I  now 
mean  to  overthrow  :  lftly,  They  do  not  pray,  becaufe 
they  know  not,  fay  they,  how  to  pray,  and  confequently, 
that  it  is  loft  time  ;  zd/y,  They  do  not  pray,  becaufe  they 
complain  that  they  find  nothing  in  prayer  but  wanderings  of 
the  mind,  which  render  it  both  infipid  and  difagreeable. 
Firft  pretext,  drawn  from  their  ignorance  of  the  manner 
in  which  they  ought  to  pray.  Second  pretext,  founded  on 
the  difgufts  and  the  difficulties  of  prayer.  You  muft  be 
taught,  therefore,  how  to  pray,  finceyou  know  it  not.  And, 
3^/y,  the  habit  of  prayer  muft  be  rendered  eafy  to  you, 
fince  you  find  it  fo  troublefome  and  difficult. 

Part  I.  "The  commandments  which  I  command  you, 
faid  formerly  the  Lord  to  his  people,  are  neither  above 
your  ftrength,  nor  the  reach  of  your  mind  :  they  are  not 
hidden  from  you,  nor  far  off,  that  you  fhould  fay,  who 
fhall  go  up  for  us  to  Heaven  and  bring  them  to  us,  that  we 
may  hear  them  and  do  them  ?  Nor  are  they  beyond  the  fea, 
that  you  fhould  fay,  who  fhall  go  over  the  fea  for  us  and 
bring  them  unto  us,  that  we  may  hear  them  and  do  them  ? 
But  the  word  is  very  nigh  unto  you,  in  your  mouth  and  in 
your  heart,  that  you  may  do  it." 

Now^ 


358  SERMON     XIII. 

Now,  what  the  Lord  faid  in  general  of  all  the  precepts 
of  the  law,  that  we  have  no  occafion  to  feek  beyond  our- 
selves for  the  knowledge  of  them,  but  that  they  may  be 
all  accomplished  in  our  heart  and  in  our  mouth,  may  more 
particularly  be  faid  of  the  precept  of  prayer,  which  is  as 
if  the  firfl  and  the  moft  effential  of  all. 

Neverthelefs,  what  they  commonly  oppofe  in  the  world 
againft  this  duty  is,  that,  when  they  come  to  prayer,  they 
know  not  what  to  fay  to  God,  and  that  praying  is  a  fecret 
of  which  they  have  never  as  yet  been  able  to  comprehend 
any  thing.  I  fay  then,  that  the  fource  of  this  pretext 
fprings  from  three  iniquitous  difpofitions  :  the  firft  is, 
that  they  are  miftaken  in  the  idea  which  they  form  of  pray- 
er ;  the  fecond  is,  that  they  are  not  fufficiently  fenfible  of 
their  own  wretchednefs  and  wants  ;  and  the  third  is,  that 
they  do  not  love  their  God. 

lftly*  I  fay  that  they  are  miflaken  in  the  idea  which  they 
form  of  prayer.  In  effecl:,  prayer  is  not  an  exertion  of 
the  mind,  an  arrangement  of  ideas,  a  profound  knowledge 
of  the  myfteries  and  counfels  of  God  ;  it  is  a  fimple  emo- 
tion of  the  heart ;  it  is  a  lamentation  of  the  foul,  deeply  af- 
fe&ed  at  the  fight  of  its  own  wretchednefs;  it  is  a  keen 
and  inward  feeling  of  our  wants  and  of  our  weaknefs,  and 
an  humble  confidence  which  it  lays  before  its  Lord,  in 
order  to  obtain  relief  and  deliverance  from  them.  Prayer 
fuppofes  in  the  foul  which  prays,  neither  great  lights,  un- 
common knowledge,  nor  a  mind  more  cultivated  and  exalt- 
ed than  that  of  the  reft  of  men  ;  it  fuppofes  only  more  faith, 
more  contrition,  and  a  warmer  defire  of  deliverance  from 
its  temptations  and  from  its  wretchednefs.  Prayer  is  nei- 
ther a  fecret  nor  a  fcience  which  we  learn  from  men  y  nor 
is  k  an  art,  or  a  private  method,  upon  which  it  is  necef- 

fary 


ON  PRAYER.  373 

fary  to  confult  fkilful  teachers,  in  order  to  be  matter  of  its 
rules  and  precepts.  The  methods  and  the  maxims  there- 
upon, pretended  to  be  laid  down  to  us  in  our  days,  are  ei- 
ther lingular  ways  which  are  not  to  be  followed,  or  the 
vain  fpeculations  of  an  idle  mind,  or  a  fanaticifm,  which 
may  flop  at  nothing,  and  which,  far  from  edifying  the 
church,  hath  merited  her  cenfures,  and  hath  furnifhed,  to 
the  impious,  matter  of  derifion  againft  her,  and  to  the 
world,  frefh  pretexts  of  contempt  for,  and  difguft  at  pray- 
er. Prayer  is  a  duty,  upon  which  we  are  all  born  inftru'ft- 
ed  :  the  rules  of  this  divine  fcience  are  written  folely  in 
our  hearts;  and  the  fpirit  of  God  is  the  fole  mafter  to 
teach  it. 

An  holy  and  innocent  foul,  who  is  penetrated  with  the 
greatnefs  of  God,  ftruck  with  the  terror  of  his  judgments, 
touched  with  his  infinite  mercies,  who  only  knows  to  hum- 
ble himfelf  before  him,  to  acknowledge,  in  the  fimplicity  of 
his  heart,  his  goodnefs  and  wonders,  to  adore  the  orders 
of  his  providence  upon  him,  to  accept  before  him  of  the 
croffes  and  afflictions  impofed  upon  him  by  the  wifdom  of 
his  counfels  ;  who  knows  no  prayer  more  fublime,  than  to 
be  fenfible  before  God  of  all  the  corruption  of  his  heart ; 
to  groan  over  his  own  hardnefs  of  heart  and  oppofition  to 
all  good,  to  entreat  of  him,  with  a  fervent  faith,  to  change 
him,  to  deftroy  in  him  that  man  of  fin,  which,  in  fpite  of 
his  firmeftrefolves,  continually  forces  him  to  make  fo  ma- 
ny  falfe  fteps  in  the  ways  of  God:  a  foul  of  this  defcrip- 
tion  is  a  thoufand  times  more  inftrufted  in  the  knowledge 
of  prayer  than  all  the  teachers  themfelves,  and  may  fay 
with  the  prophet,  "  I  have  more  underftanding  than  all 
"  my  teachers."  He  fpeaks  to  his  God  as  a  friend  to  a  friend  ; 
he  is  forry  for  having  offended  him  ;  he  upbraids  himfelf 
for  not  having,  as  yet,  fifficient  force  to  renounce  all  to 

pleafe 


374  SERMON    XIII. 

pleafe  him;  he  takes  no  pride  in  the  fublimity  of  hi* 
thoughts  ;  he  leaves  his  heart  to  fpeak,  and  gives  way  to 
all  its  tendernefs  before  the  only  object  of  his  love.  Even 
when  his  mind  wanders,  his  heart  watches  and  fpeaks  for 
him;  his  very  difgufts  become  a  prayer,  through  the  feel* 
ings  which  are  then  excited  in  his  heart ;  he  is  tenderly  af- 
fe&ed,  he  fighs,  he  is  difpleafed  with,  and  a  burden  to 
himfelf,  he  feels  the  weight  of  bis  bonds,  he  exerts  him- 
felf  as  if  to  break  and  throw  them  off,  heathoufand  times 
renews  his  proteftations  of  fidelity,  heblufhes  and  is  afham- 
ed  at  always  promifing,  and  yet  being  continually  faith- 
Jefs :  fuch  is  the  whole  fecret,  and  the  whole  fcience  of 
prayer.  And  what  is  there  in  all  this  beyond  the  reach  of 
every  believing  foul  ? 

Who  had  inftru&ed  our  poor  woman  of  Canaan  in  prayer  ? 
A  ftranger,  and  daughter  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  who  was  un- 
acquainted with  the  wonders  of  the  law,  and  the  oracles  of 
the  prophets ;  who  had  not  yet  heard  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Saviour,  the  words  of  eternal  life  ;  who  was  ftill  under  the 
fhadows  of  ignorance  and  of  death  ;  fhe  prays,  however; 
her  love,  her  confidence,  the  defire  of  being  granted, 
teach  her  to  pray  ;  her  heart  being  touched,  conftitutes  the 
whole  merit  and  the  whole  fublimity  of  her  prayer. 

And  furcly,  if,  in  order  to  pray,  it  were  requifite  to 
rife  to  thofe  fublime  Hates  of  prayer,  to  which  God  exalteth 
fome  holy  fouls ;  if  it  were  neceffary  to  be  wrapt  in  exta- 
cy,  and  tranfported  even  up  to  heaven,  like  Paul,  thereto 
hear  thofe  ineffable  fecrets  which  God  expofeth  not  to  man, 
and  which  it  is  not  permitted,  even  to  man  himfelf,  to  re- 
veal ;  or,  like  Mofes  upon  the  holy  mountain,  to  be  placed 
upon  a  cloud  of  glory,  and,  face  to  face,  to  fee  God :  that 
is  to  fay,  if  it  were  neceffary  to  have  attained  to  that  de- 
gree 


ON  PRAYER. 


375 


gree  of  intimate  union  with  the  Lord,  in  which  the  foul, 
as  if  already  freed  from  its  body,  fprings  up  even  into  the 
bofom  of  its  God  ;  contemplates  at  leifure  his  infinite  per- 
fections ;  forgets,  as  I  may  fay,  its  members  which  are 
ftill  upon  the  earth  ;  is  no  longer  difturbed,  nor  even  di- 
verted by  the  phantoms  of  the  fenfes  ;  is  fixed,  and  if  ab- 
forbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  wonders  and  the  gran- 
deur of  God  ;  and,  already  participating  in  his  eternity, 
could  count  a  whole  age  paffed  in  that  bleffed  ftate,  as  on- 
ly a  fhort  and  rapid  moment ;  if,  I  fay,  it  were  necef- 
fary,  in  order  to  pray,  to  be  favoured  with  thefe  rare 
and  excellent  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  you  might  tell 
us,  like  thofe  new  believers  of  whom  St.  Paul  makes 
mention,  that  you  have  not  yet  received  them,  and  that 
you  know  not  what  is  even  that  fpirit  which  communicates 
them. 

But. prayer  is  not  a  fpecial  gift  fet  apart  for  privileged 
fouls  alone;  it  is  a  common  duty  impofed  upon  every  be- 
liever ;  it  is  not  folely  a  virtue  of  perfection,  and  referved; 
for  certain  purer  and  more  holy  fouls;  it  is,  like  charity, 
an  indifpeniible  virtue,  requifite  to  the  perfect  as  to  the  im- 
perfect, within  the  capacity  of  the  illiterate  equally  as  ot 
the  learned,  commanded  to  the  fimple  as  to  the  moft  en- 
lightened ;  it  is  the  virtue  of  all  men  ;  it  is  the  fcience  of 
every  believer;  it  is  the  perfection  of  every  creature. 
Whoever  has  a  heart,  and  is  capable  of  loving  the  Author 
of  his  being  ;  whoever  has  a  reafon  capable  of  knowing 
the  nothingnefs  of  the  creature  and  the  greatnefs  of  God, 
muft  know  how  to  adore,  to  return  him  thanks,  and  to 
have  recourfe  to  him  ;  to  appeafe  him  when  offended  ;  to 
Call  upon  him  when  turned  away  ;  to  thank  him  when  fa- 
vourable ;  to  humble  himfelf  when  he  ftrikcs ;  to  lay  his 

wants 


376  SERMON     XIII. 

wants  before  him,  or  to  entreat  his  countenance  and  pro- 
tection. 


Thus,  when  the  difciples  afk  of  Jefus  Chrift  to  teach 
them  to  pray,  he  doth  not  untold  to  them  the  height,  the 
fublimity,  the  depth  oi  the  myfteries  of  God ;  he  folely 
informs  them  that,  in  order  to  pray,  it  is  necefTary  to  con- 
fider  God  as  a  tender,  bountiful,  and  careful  father  :  to 
addrefs  themfelves  to  him  with  a  refpe&ful  familiarity, 
and  with  a  confidence  blended  with  fear  and  love  ;  to 
fpeak  to  him  the  language  of  our  weaknefs  and  of  our 
wretchednefs ;  to  borrow  no  expreflions  but  from  our 
heart ;  to  make  no  attempt  of  rifing  to  him,  but  rather  to 
draw  him  nearer  to  us  ;  to  lay  our  wants  befor  him,  and  to 
implore  his  aid  ;  to  wifh  that  all  men  blels  and  worfhip  him  ; 
and  that  his  reign  be  eftablifhed  in  all  hearts  ;  that  his  will 
be  done,  as  in  heaven  fo  in  earth ;  that  finners  return  to 
the  paths  of  righteoufnefs  ;  that  believers  attain  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth;  that  he  forgive  us  our  fins  ;  that 
he  preferve  us  from  temptations  ;  that  he  aflifl:  our  weak- 
nefs ;  that  he  deliver  us  from  our  miferies.  All  is  fimple, 
but  all  is  grand  in  this  divine  prayer ;  it  recals  man  to  him- 
felf,  and,  in  order  to  adopt  it  as  a  model,  nothing  more  is 
required  than  to  feel  our  wants,  and  to  wifh  deliverance 
from  them. 

And  behold  why  have  I  faid  that  the  fecond  iniquitous 
difpofition,  from  whence  the  pretext,  founded  upon  not 
knowing  how  to  pray  proceeded,  is,  that  they  do  notfuffi- 
ciently  feel  the  infinite  wants  of  their  foul.  For,  I  afk 
you,  my  brethren,  is  it  necefTary  to  teach  a  fick  perfon  to 
entreat  relief  ?  is  a  man  prefTed  with  hunger  difficulted  how 
to  folicit   food  ?  is   an  unfortunate  perfon  beaten  with  the 

tempefl, 


ON  PRAYER.  377 

fcempeft,  and  on  the  point  of  perifhing,  at  a  lofs  how  to 
implore  afliftance?  Alas!  doth  the  urgent  neceflit'/  alone 
not  amply  furnifh  expreflions  ?  In  the  fole  fenfe  of  our 
evils,  do  we  not  find  that  animated  eloquence,  thofe  per- 
fuafive  emotions,  thofe  preffing  remonftrances  which  foli- 
cit  their  cure  ?  Has  a  fuffering  heart  occafion  for  any  mat- 
ter to  teach  it  to  complain  ?  In  it  every  thing  fpeaks,  every 
thing  expreffes  its  affli&ion,  every  thing  announces  its  fuf- 
ferings,  and  every  thing  folicits  relief ;  even  its  filence  is 
eloquent. 

You  yourfelf,  who  complain  that  you  know  not  what 
method  to  take  in  praying,  in  your  temporal  afflictions, 
from  the  inflant  that  a  dangerous  malady  threatens  your 
life,  that  an  unlooked  for  event  endangers  your  property 
and  fortune,  that  an  approaching  death  is  on  the  point  of" 
fnatching  from  you  a  perfon  either  dear  or  neceflary  ;  then 
you  raife  your  hands  to  heaven ;  then  you  fend  up  your 
lamentations  and  prayers  ;  you  addrefs  yourfelf  to  the  God 
who  flrikes  and  who  relieves  ;  you  then  know  how  to  pray  ; 
you  have  no  need  of  going  beyond  your  own  heart  for  leffons 
and  rules  to  lay  your  affliftions  before  him,  nor  do  you 
confult  able  teachers  in  order  to  know  what  to  fay  to  him  ; 
you  have  occafion  for  nothing  but  your  grief,  your  evils 
alone  have  found  out  the  method  of  infr.ru£ting  you. 

Ah !  my  brethren,  if  we  felt  the  wants  of  our  foul  as 
we  feel  thofe  of  the  body  ;  if  our  eternal  falvation  intereft- 
ed  us  as  much  as  we  are  for  a  fortune  of  dirt,  or  for  a  weak 
and  perifhable  health,  we  would  foon  be  fkilful  in  the  di- 
vine art  of  prayer ;  we  would  not  complain  that  we  had 
iiothing  to  fay  in  the  prefence  of  a  God  of  whom  we 
have  fo  much  to  aik  ;  the  mind  would  be  little  difficulted 
in  finding  wherewith  to   entertain  him  ;  our  evils  alone 

Vol,  I.  Z  z  would 


Q7S  U.ERMON     XIII. 

A/     i     ... 

would  fpeak  ;  in  fpite  of  ourfelves,  our  heart  would  burft 
forth  in  holy  erTufions,  like  that  of  Samuel's  mother  be- 
fore the  ark  of  the  Lord ;  we  would  no  longer  be  mafter 
of  our  forrows  and  tears ;  and  the  mofl  certain  mark  of 
our  want  of  faith,  and  that  we  know  ourfelves  not,  is  that 
of  not  knowing  what  to  fay  to  the  Lord  in  the  fpace  of  a 
fhort  prayer. 

And,  after  all,  is  it  impoflible  that,  in  the  miferable 
condition  of  this  human  life,  furrounded  as  we  are  with 
fo  many  dangers  ;  made  up  ourfelves  of  fo  many  weaknef- 
fes  ;  on  the  point  ,  every  moment,  of  being  led  aflray  by 
the  objefts  of  vanity,  corrupted  by  the  illufions  of  the 
fenfes,  and  dragged  away  by  the  force  of  example  ;  a  con- 
tinual prey  to  the  tyranny  of  our  inclinations,  to  the  do- 
minion of  our  fleih,  to  the  inconftancy  of  our  heart,  to 
the  inequalities  of  our  reafon,  to  the  caprices  of  our  im- 
agination, to  the  eternal  variations  of  our  temper  ;  depref- 
fed  by  lofs  of  favour,  elated  by  profperity,  enervated  by 
abundance,  foured  by  poverty,  led  away  by  cuftoms,  fha- 
ken  by  accidents,  flattered  with  praife,  irritated  by  con- 
tempt ;  continually  wavering  between  our  paflions  and 
our  duties,  between  ourfelves  and  the  law  of  God;  is  it 
poffible,  I  fay,  that  in  a  fituation  fo  deplorable,  we  can  be 
difficulted  what  to  afk  of  the  Lord,  or  what  to  fay  to  him, 
when  we  appear  in  his  prefence  ?  O  my  God  !  why  then 
is  man  not  lefs  miferable  ?  Or  why  is  he  not  better  acquaint- 
ed with  his  wants  ? 

Ah  !  if  you  told  us  my  dear  hearer,  that  you  know  not 
where  to  begin  in  prayer;  that  your  wants  are  fo  infinite, 
your  miferies  and  your  pafhons  fo  multiplied,  that,  were 
you  to  pretend  to  expofe  them  all  to  the  Lord,  you  would 
never  have  done :  if  you  faid  to  us,  that  the  more  you 

fearch 


ON  PRAYER.  379 

fearch  into  your  heart,  the  more  your  wounds  unfold,  the 
more  corruption  and  diforders  do  you  difcover  in  your- 
felf,  and  that,  defpairing  of  being  able  to  relate  to  the  Lord 
the  endlefs  detail  of  your  weaknefles,  you  prefent  your 
heart  wholly  to  him,  you  leave  your  evils  to  fpeak  for  you, 
you  ground  your  whole  art  ot  prayer  on  your  confufion, 
your  humiliation,  and  your  filence ;  and  that  in  confequence 
of  having  too  much  to  fay  to  him,  you  fay  nothing ;  if  you 
fpeak  in  this  manner,  you  would  fpeak  the  language  of 
faith,  and  that  of  a  penitent  king,  who,  contemplating  his 
repeated  relapfes,  and  no  longer  daring  to  fpeak  to  his  God 
in  prayer,  faid,  "  Lord,  I  am  troubled,  I  am  bowed  down 
••  greatly ;  I  go  mourning  all  the  day  long  :  for  mine  ini- 
"  quities  are  gone  over  my  head,  as  an  heavy  burden  they 
"  are  too  heavy  for  me.  My  heart  panteth,  my  flrength 
"  faileth  me  ;  for  I  will  declare  mine  iniquity,  I  will  be 
"  forry  for  my  fin.  Forfake  me  not,  O  Lord :  O  my 
"  God  !  be  not  far  from  me.  Make  hafte  to  help  me,  O 
"  Lord  my  falvation."  Such  is  the  filence  of  compunc- 
tion which  forms  before  God  the  true  prayer. 

But  to  complain  that  you  have  no  longer  any  thing  to 
fay,  when  you  wifh  to  pray  :  Alas  !  My  dear  hearer,  when 
you  prefent  yourfelf  before  God,  do  your  paft  crimes  hold 
out  nothing  for  you  to  dread  from  his  judgments,  or  to 
afk  from  his  mercy  ?  What !  your  whole  life  has  perhaps 
been  only  a  fink  oi  debaucheries  ;  you  have  perverted  every 
thing,  grace,  your  talents,  your  reafon,  your  wealth,  your 
dignities,  all  creatures;  you  have  palled  the  beft  part  of 
your  days  in  the  neglect  of  your  God,  and  in  all  the  delu- 
fions  of  the  world  and  of  the  paffions ;  you  have  vilified 
your  heart  by  iniquitous  attachments,  defiled  your  body, 
difordered  your  imagination,  weakened  your  lights,  and 
even  extinguifhed  every  happy  difpofition  which  nature 

had 


380  SERMON     XIII. 

had  placed  in  your  foul ;  and  the  recollection  of  all  this 
furnifhes  you  with  nothing  in  the  prefence  of  God  !  And 
it  infpires  you  with  no  idea  of  the  method  you  ought  to 
adopt,  in  having  recourfe  to  him,  in  order  to  obtain  his 
lorgivenefs  of  fuch  accumulated  crimes  ?  And  you  have 
nothing  to  fay  to  a  God  whom  you  have  fo  long  offended  ? 
O  man !  Thy  falvation,  then,  mull  either  be  without  re- 
source, or  thou  muft  have  other  means  of  accomplifhing 
it  than  thofe  of  the  divine  clemency  and  mercy. 

But,  my  dear  hearer,  I  go  further.  If  you  lead  a  Chrif- 
tian  life ;  if  returned  from  the  world  and  from  pleafures, 
you  are  at  laft  entered  into  the  ways  of  falvation,  you  are 
if  ill  more  unjuft  in  complaining  that  you  find  nothing  to 
fay  to  the  Lord  in  your  prayers.  What  !  The  fingular 
grace  of  having  opened  your  eyes,  of  undeceiving  you 
with  regard  to  the  world,  and  withdrawing  you  from  the 
bottom  of  the  abyfs  ;  this  bleffing  fo  rare,  and  denied  to 
fo  many  finners,  doth  it  give  rife  to  no  grateful  feelings  in 
your  heart,  when  at  his  feet  ?  Can  this  recollection  leave 
you  cold  and  infenfible  ?  Is  nothing  tender  awakened  by 
the  prefence  of  your  benefactor,  you  who  pride  yourfelf 
upon  never  having  forgotten  a  benefit,  and  who  pompoufly 
difplay  the  feeling  and  the  excels  of  your  gratitude  towards 
the  creatures  ? 

Befides,  if  you  feel  thofe  endlefs  tendencies,  which  in 
fpite  of  your  change  of  life,  ftill  rife  up  within  you  againft 
the  law  of  God  ;  that  difficulty  which  you  ftill  have  in 
doing  well;  that  unfortunate  inclination  which  you  ftill 
find  within  you  towards  evil  ;  thofe  defires  of  a  more  per- 
fect virtue,  which  always  turn  out  vain  ;  thofe  refolutions 
to  which  you  are  always  faithlefs;  thofe  opportunities, 
in    which    you    find   yourfelf   the   fame ;    thofe   duties, 

which 


ON  PRAYER.  38 J 

which  always  meet  the  fame  repugnance  in  your  heart : 
in  a  word,  if  you  feel  that  inexhauft  ible  fund  of  weak- 
ness and  of  corruption,  which  remains  with  you  af- 
ter your  converfion,  and  which  alarms  fo  much  your  vir- 
tue, you  will  not  only  have  ample  matter  to  addrefs  the 
Lord  in  prayer,  but  your  whole  life  will  be  one  continual 
prayer.  All  the  dangers  which  fhall  threaten  your  weak- 
nefs,  all  the  accidents  which  fhall  fhake  your  faith,  all  the 
objecls  which  fhall  open  afrefh  the  former  wounds  of  your 
heart,  all  the  inward  emotions  which  fhall  prove  that  the 
man  of  fin  lives  always  within  you,  will  lead  you  to  look 
upwards  to  Him  from  whom  alone  you  expecl  deliverance 
from  them.  As  theapoflle  faid,  every  place  will  be  to  you 
a  place  of  prayer ;  every  thing  will  direct  your  attention 
to  God,  becaufe  every  thing  will  furnifh  you  with  chriftian 
reflexions  upon  yourfelf. 

Befides,  my  dear  hearer,  even  granting  that  your  own  ne- 
ceflities  fhould  not  be  fufBcient  to  fill  the  void  of  your 
prayer,  employ  a  portion  of  it  with  the  evils  of  the  church  ; 
with  the  diflentions  of  the  pallors ;  with  that  fpirit  of 
fchifm  and  revolt  which  feems  to  be  forming  in  the  fan£lua- 
ry ;  with  the  relaxation  of  believers ;  with  the  depravity 
of  manners  ;  with  the  fad  progrefs  of  unbelief,  and  the 
diminution  of  faith  among  men.  Lament  over  the  fcan- 
dals  of  which  you  area  continual  witnefs  ;  complain  to  the 
Lord,  with  the  prophet,  that  all  has  forfaken  him  ;  that 
every  one  feeks  his  own  intereft ;  that  even  the  fait  of  the 
earth  hath  become  taftelefs,  and  that  piety  has  become  a 
traffic.  Entreat  of  the  Lord,  the  confummation  of  his 
ele£f ,  and  the  fulfilment  of  his  defigns  upon  his  church  ; 
religious  princes,  faithful  parlors,  humble  and  enlightened 
teachers,  knowing  and  difinterefted  guides :  peace  to  the 

churches ; 


382  SERMON     XIII. 

churches ;  the  extinction  of  error,  and  the  return  of  all  who 
have  gone  aftray. 

What  more  fhall  I  add  ?  Entreat  the  converfion  of  your 
relations,  friends,  enemies,  protectors,  and  maflers  ;  the 
converfion  of  thofe  fouls  to  whom  you  have  been  a  Hum- 
bling-block ;  of  thofe  whom  you  have  formerly  eflranged 
from  piety  through  your  derifions  and  cenfures  ;  of  thofe 
who  perhaps  owe  their  irreligion  and  freethinking  folely  to 
the  impiety  of  your  paft  difcourfes  ;  of  thofe  of  whom 
your  examples  or  folicitations  have  formerly  either  per- 
verted the  virtue,  or  feduced  the  weaknefs.  Is  it  poffible 
that  thefe  great  objects,  at  once  fo  fad  and  fo  interefting, 
cannot  furnifh  attention  to  your  mind,  or  fome  feeling  to 
your  heart  ?  Every  thing  which  furrounds  you  teaches  you 
to  pray ;  every  object,  every  accident  which  you  fee 
around  you,  provides  you  with  frefh  opportunities  of  raif- 
ing  yourfelf  to  God  ;  the  world,  retirement,  the  court, 
the  righteous,  the  finful,  the  public  and  domeftic  occur- 
rences, the  misfortunes  of  fome,  and  the  profperity  of 
others  ;  every  thing,  which  meets  your  eyes,  fupplies  you 
with  fubjecl:  of  lamentation,  of  prayer,  of  thankfgiving. 
Every  thing  inflru&s  your  faith  ;  every  thing  excites  your 
zeal;  all  grieves  your  piety,  and  calls  forth  your  gratitude  ; 
and,  amid  fo  many  fubje&s  of  prayer,  you  cannot  fupply 
a  fingle  inflant  of  prayer !  Surrounded  with  fo  many  op- 
portunities of  raifing  yourfelf  to  God,  you  have  nothing 
to  fay  to  him  when  you  come  to  appear  in  his  prefence  ? 
Ah  !  My  brethren,  how  far  removed  mufl  God  be  from  an 
heart,  which  finds  it  fuch  a  punifhment  to  converfe  with 
him,  and  how  little  mufl  that  mailer  and  friend  be  loved, 
to  whom  they  never  wifh  to  fpeak  ! 


And 


ON   PRAYER.  383 

"  And  behold  the  laft  and  the  principal  caufe  of  our  inca- 
pacity in  prayer.  They  know  not  how  to  pray  and  to 
fpeak  to  their  God,  becaufe  they  do  not  love  him.  When 
the  heart  loves,  it  foon  finds  out  how  to  communicate  its 
feelings,  and  to  affeft:  the  obje&of  its  love  ;  it  foon  knows 
what  it  ought  to  fay :  Alas !  it  cannot  exprefs  all  that  it 
feels.  Let  us  eftablifh  regularity  once  more  in  our  hearts, 
my  brethren  ;  let  us  fubflitute  God  in  place  of  the  world  ; 
then  fhall  our  heart  be  no  longer  a  ftranger  before  God.  It 
is  the  irregularity  of  our  affeclions,  which  is  the  fole  caufe 
of  our  incapacity  in  prayer ;  eternal  riches  can  never  be 
fervently  afked,  when  they  are  not  loved  ;  truths  can  ne- 
ver be  well  meditated  upon,  when  they  are  not  reliihed  ; 
and  little  can  be  faid  to  a  God  who  is  hardly  known  ;  fa- 
vours which  are  not  defired,  and  freedom  from  paffions 
which  are  not  hated,  can  never  be  very  urgently  folicited ; 
in  a  word,  prayer  is  the  language  of  love ;  and  we  know 
not  how  to  pray,  becaufe  we  not  how  to  love. 

But,  as  you  will  fay,  doth  an  inclination  for  prayer  de- 
pend upon  us  ?  And  how  is  it  poffible  to  pray,  with  dif- 
gufts  and  wanderings  of  the  mind,  which  are  not  to  be 
conquered,  and  which  render  it  infupportable  ?  Second 
pretext,  drawn  from  the  difgufts  and  the  difficulties  of 
prayer. 

Part  II.  One  of  the  greateft  exceffes  of  On,  is  un- 
doubtedly that  backwardnefs,  and,  I  may  fay,  that  natural 
diflike  which  we  have  to  prayer.  Man  innocent,  would 
have  founded  his  whole  delight  in  holding  converfe  with 
God  :  all  creatures  would  have  been  as  an  open  bogk, 
where  we  would  have  ineefiantly  meditated  upon  his  works 
and  his  wonders  ;  the  impreflions  of  the  fenfes,  under  the* 

command 


084  SERMON     XIII. 

command  of  reafon,  would  never  have  been  able  to  turn 
him  afide,  in  fpite  of  himfelf,  from  the  delight  and  the 
familiarity  of  his  prefence  ;  his  whole  life  would  have  been 
one  continued  contemplation  of  the  truth,  and  his  whole 
happinefs  in  his  innocence  would  have  been  founded  on 
his  continual  communications  with  the  Lord,  and  the  cer- 
tainty that  he  would  never  forfake  him. 

Man  mull  therefore  be  highly  corrupted,  and  fin  muft 
have  made  flrange  alterations  in  us,  to  turn  into  a  punifh- 
ment  what  ought  to  be  our  happinefs.*  It  is  however  only 
too  true,  that  we  almoft  all  bear  in  our  nature  this  back- 
wardnefs,  and  this  diflike  to  prayer ;  and  upon  thefe  is 
founded  the  mofl  univerfal  pretext,  which  is  oppofed  to 
the  difcharge  of  this  duty,  fo  effential  to  chriftian  piety. 
Even  perfons,  to  whom  the  habit  of  prayer  ought  to  be 
rendered  more  pleafing  and  more  familiar,  by  the  practice 
of  virtue,  continually  complain  of  the  difgufls  and  of  the 
conflant  wanderings  which  they  experience  in  this  holy  ex- 
ercife ;  infomuch  that,  looking  upon  it  either  as  a  weari- 
fome  duty,  or  as  a  loft  trouble,  they  abridge  its  length,  and 
think  themfelves  happily  quit  of  a  yoke  and  of  a  flavery, 
when  this  moment  of  wearinefs  and  reftraint  is  over. 

Now,  I  fay,  that  nothing  is  more  unrighteous  than  to 
eflrange  ourfelves  from  prayer,  on  account  of  the  difgufls 
and  wanderings  of  the  mind,  which  render  it  painful  and 
difagreeable  to  us  ;  tor  thefe  difgufls  and  wanderings  origin- 
ate, lft,  From  our  lukewarmnefs  and  our  infidelities  ;  or, 
2dly,  In  our  being  little  accuflomed  to  prayer  ;  or,  3dly, 
In  the  wifdom  even  of  God,  who  tries  us,  and  who  wifhes 
to  purify  our  heart,  by  withholding  for  a  time  the  fenfible 
confolations  of  prayer. 

Yes, 


ON  PRAYER.  385 

Yes,  my  brethren,  the  firft,  and  the  moft  common  fource 
of  the  difgufts  and  the  drynefs  of  our  prayers,  is  the  luke- 
warmnefs  and  the  infidelity  of  our  life.  It  is,  in  effect, 
an  injuftice,  to  pretend  that  we  can  bring  to  prayer  a  fe- 
rene  and  tranquil  mind  ;  a  cool  imagination,  free  from  all 
the  vain  phantoms  by  which  it  is  agitated  ;  an  heart  affect- 
ed with,  and  difpofed  torelifhthe  prefenceof  its  God,  while 
our  whole  life,  though  otherwife  virtuous  in  the  eyes  of  man, 
fhall  be  one  continual  diflipation  ;  while  we  fhall  continue 
to  live  among  objects  the  moft  calculated  to  move  the  ima- 
gination, and  to  make  thofe  lively  impreflions  on  us  which 
are  never  done  away  ;  in  a  word,  while  we  fhall  preferve 
a  thoufand  iniquitous  attachments  in  our  heart,  which, 
though  not  abfolutely  criminal  in  our  eyes,  yet  trouble,  di- 
vide, and  occupy  us,  and  which  weaken  in  us,  or  even 
totally  deprive  us  of  any  relifh  for  God,  and  the  things  of 
heaven. 

Alas  !  my  brethren,  if  the  moft  retired  and  the  moft  ho- 
ly fouls  ;  if  the  moft  reclufe  penitents,  purified  by  long 
retreat  and  by  a  life  altogether  devoted  to  heaven,  ftill 
found  in  the  fole  remembrance  of  their  paft  manners  difa- 
greeable  images,  which  forced  their  way  even  into  their  fo- 
litude,  to  difturb  the  comfort  and  the  tranquillity  of  their 
prayers  ;  do  we  expeft  that  in  a  life,  regular  I  confefs,  but 
full  of  agitations,  of  occafions  by  which  we  are  led  away, 
of  objects  which  unfettle  us,  of  temptations  which  dif- 
quiet,  of  pleafures  which  enervate,  of  fears  and  hopes 
which  agitate  us,  we  fhall  find  ourfelves,  in  prayer,  all  of 
a  fudden  new  men,  purified  from  all  thofe  images  which 
fully  our  mind,  freed  from  all  thofe  attachments  which 
come  to  divide,  and  perhaps  to  corrupt  our  heart,  in 
tranquillity  from  all  thofe  agitations  which  continually  make 
fuch  violent  and  fuch  dangerous   impreflions  upon  our 

Vol.  I.  A3  foul ; 


386  SERMON     XIII. 

foul ;  and  that,  forgetting  for  a  moment  the  entire  world, 
and  all  thofe  vain  objects  which  we  have  fo  lately  quitted,  and 
which  we  ftill  bear  in  our  remembrance  and  in  our  heart, 
we  fhall,  all  of  a  fudden,  find  ourfelves  raifed,  before 
God,  to  the  meditation  of  heavenly  things,  penetrated 
with  love  for  eternal  riches,  filled  with  compunction  for 
innumerable  infidelities  which  we  ftill  love,  and  with  a 
tranquillity  of  mind  and  of  heart,  which  the  profoundeft 
retirement,  and  the  moft  rigorous  feclufion  from  the  world, 
frequently  do  not  beftow  ?  Ah  !  my  brethren,  how  unjuft 
we  are,  and  into  what  terrible  reproaches  againft  ourfelves 
(hall  the  continual  complaints  made  by  us  againft  the  du- 
ties of  piety  one  day  be  turned  I 

And  to  go  farther  into  this  truth,  and  to  enter  into  a  de- 
tail, which  renders  it  more  evident  to  you  ;  you  complain, 
in  the  firft  place,  that  your  mind,  incapable  of  a  moment's 
attention  in  prayer,  wanders  from  it,  and  flies  off  in  fpite  of 
yourfelf.  But  how  can  it  be  otherwife,  or  how  can  you 
find  it  attentive  and  collected,  if  every  thing  you  do  takes 
off  its  attention  and  unfettles  it  ;  if  in  the  detail  of  conduct 
you  never  recollect  yourfelf ;  if  you  never  accuftom  your- 
felf to  that  mental  reflection,  to  that  life  of  faith,  which, 
even  amid  the  diflipatioris  of  the  world,  finds  ample  four- 
ces  of  holy  reflections  ?  To  have  a  collected  mind  in  pray- 
er, you  mull  bring  it  along  with  you ;  it  is  necefTary  that 
even  your  intercourfe  with  finners,  when  obliged  to  live 
among  them,  the  fight  of  their  paflions,  of  their  anxieties, 
fears,  hopes,  joys,  chagrins,  and  wretchednefs,  fupply 
your  faith  with  reflections,  and  turn  your  views  towards 
God,  who  alone  beflows  collection  of  mind  and  the  tran- 
quillity  of  prayer.  Then,  even  on  quitting  the  world  and 
thofe  worldly  converfations,  where  duty  alone  fhall  have 
engaged  your  prefence,  you  will  find  no  difficulty  in  go- 
ing 


ON  PRAYER.  g&7 

ing  to  recolleft  yourfelf  before  God,  and  in  forgetting  at 
his  feet  thofe  vain  agitations  which  you  have  fo  lately  wit- 
nefTed.  On  the  contrary,  the  defigns  of  faith  which  you 
fhall  there  have  preserved ;  the  blindncfs  of  the  worldly, 
which  you  fhall  there  have  inwardly  deplored,  will  caufe 
you  to  find  new  comforts  at  the  feet  of  Jcfus  Chrift ;  you 
will  there,  with  confolation,  recreate  yourfelf  from  the 
wearinefs  of  diflipation  and  of  worldly  nothings  ;  you 
will  lament,  with  increafed  fatisfa&ion,  over  the  folly  of 
men  who  fo  madly  purfue  after  a  vapour,  a  chimerical 
happinefs,  which  eludes  their  grafp,  and  which  it  is  im- 
poffible  ever  to  attain,  for  the  world  in  which  they  feek  it 
cannot  beftow  it  ;  you  will  there  more  warmly  thank  the 
Lord  for  having  with  fo  much  goodnefs,  and  notwithfland- 
ing  your  crimes,  enlightened  and  difcerned  you  from  that 
multitude  which  muft  perifli ;  you  will  there  fee,  as  in  a 
new  light,  the  happinefs  of  thofe  fouls  who  ferve  him, 
and  whole  eyes  being  opened  upon  vanity,  no  longer  live 
but  for  the  truth. 

2<#y,  You  complain  that  your  heart,  infenfible  in  pray- 
er, feels  nothing  fervent  for  its  God,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
a  difguft  which  renders  it  infupportable.  But  how  is  it 
poffible  that  your  heart,  wholly  engrofled  with  the  things 
of  the  earth,  filled  with  iniquitous  attachments,  inclina- 
tion for  the  world,  love  of  yourfelf,  fchemes  for  exalting 
your  ftation,  and  defires  perhaps  of  pleafing ;  how  is  it 
poffible,  I  fay,  that  your  heart,  compounded  with  (o  ma- 
ny earthly  affections,  fhould  flill  have  any  feeling  for  the 
things  of  heaven  ?  It  is  wholly  filled  with  the  creatures ; 
where  then  fhould  God  find  his  place  in  it  ?  We  cannot 
love  both  God  and  the  world.  Thus,  when  the  Ifraelites 
had  patted  the  Jordan,  and  had  eaten  of  the  fruits  of  the 
•arth,  "  the  manna  ceafed  on  the  morrow  after  they  had 

M  eaten 


388  S  E  R-M  O  JT  XIII. 

"  eaten  of  the  old  corn  of  the  land,  neither  had  the  children 
"  of  Ifrael  manna  any  more ;"  as  if  to  fhew  that  they 
could  not  enjoy  at  the  fame  time  both  the  heavenly  nou- 
rifliment,  and  that  of  the  earth. 

Love  of  the  world,  faid  St  Auguftin,  like  a  dangerous 
fever,  fheds  an  univerfal  bitternefs  through  the  heart,  which 
renders  the  invifible  and  eternal  riches  infipid  and  difguft- 
ing  to  us.  Thus,  you  never  come  to  prayer,  but  with  an 
infurmountable  difguft  :  Ah  !  It  is  a  proof  that  your  heart 
is  difeafed  :  that  a  fecret  fever,  and  perhaps  unknown  to 
yourfelf,  caufes  it  to  languifh,  faps  and  difgufts  it ;  that  it 
is  engrofled  by  a  foreign  love.  Mount  to  the  fource  of 
your  difgufts  towards  God,  and  every  thing  connefted  with 
him,  and  fee  if  they  fhall  not  be  found  in  the  iniquitous 
attachments  of  your  heart  ;  fee  if  you  are  not  flill  a  Have 
to  yourfelf,  to  the  vain  cares  of  drefs,  to  frivolous  friend- 
fhips,  to  dangerous  animofities,  to  fecret  envies,  to  defires 
of  rank,  to  every  thing  around  you  :  thefe  are  the  fource 
of  the  evil :  apply  the  remedy  to  it ;  take  fomething  every 
day  upon  yourfelf;  labour  ferioufly  towards  purifying  your 
lieart ;  you  will  then  tafte  the  comforts  and  the  confola- 
tions  of  prayer;  then,  the  world  no  longer  engrofling 
your  afFe&ions,  you  will  find  your  God  more  worthy  of 
being  loved :  we  foon  ardently  love  the  only  object  of  our 
love. 

And,  after  all,  render  glory  here  to  the  truth :  Is  it  not 
true,  that  the  days  in  which  you  have  been  more  guarded 
upon  yourfelf;  the  days  in  which  you  have  made  fome  fa- 
crifices  to  the  Lord,  of  your  inclinations,  of  your  indo- 
lence, of  your  temper,  of  your  averfions ;  is  it  not  true 
that,  in  thefe  days,  you  have  addrefled  your  prayers  to  the 
Lord,  with  more  peace,  more  confolation,  and  more  de- 
light ? 


ON  PRAYER.      >  389 

light  ?  We  encounter,  with  double  pleafure,  the  eyes  of 
a  matter,  to  whom  we  have  lately  given  fome  ftriking 
proof  of  fidelity ;  on  the  contrary,  we  are  in  pain  before 
him,  when  we  feel  that  he  has  caufe  of  a  thoufand  juft  re- 
proaches againft  us  ;  we  are  then  anxious  and  under  re- 
flraint ;  we  endeavour  to  hide  ourfelves  from  his  view, 
like  the  firft  (inner ;  we  no  longer  addrefs  him  with  that 
overflowing  heart,  and  that  confidence,  which  a  confid- 
ence pure  and  void  of  offence  infpires  ;  and  the  moments 
when  we  are  under  the  neceflity  of  fupporting  his  divine 
prefence,  are  anxioufly  counted. 

Thus,  when  Jefus  Chrift  commands  us  to  pray,  he  be- 
gins with  ordering  us  to  watch.  He  thereby  means  us  to 
underftand  that  vigilance  is  the  only  preparation  to  prayer ; 
that  to  love  to  pray,  it  is  neceffary  to  watch  ;  and  that 
f ondnefs  for  and  confolations  in  prayer,  are  granted  only 
to  the  recollection  and  to  the  Sacrifices  of  vigilance.  I 
know  that,  if  you  do  not  pray,  you  can  never  watch  over 
yourfelf  and  live  holily  ;  but  I  likewife  know,  that,  if 
you  exert  not  that  vigilance  which  caufes  to  live  holily, 
you  can  never  pray  with  comfort  and  with  confolation. 
Prayer,  it  is  true,  obtains  for  us  the  grace  of  vigilance  ; 
but  it  is  yet  more  true,  that  vigilance  alone  can  draw 
down  upon  us  the  gift  and  the  ufage  of  the  prayer. 

And  from  thence,  it  is  eafy  to  conclude,  that  a  life  of 
the  world,  even  granting  it  to  be  the  moft  innocent  ;  that 
is  to  fay,  a  life  of  pleafure,  continual  gaming,  diflipation, 
and  theatrical  amufements,  which  you  call  fo  innocent, 
when  attended  with  no  other  harm,  than  that  of  disqualify- 
ing you  for  prayer ;  when  this  worldly  life,  which  you  lo 
itrongly  juftify,  mould  contain  nothing  more  criminal, 
than  that  of  difgufting  you  at  prayer,  of  drying  up  your 

heart, 


gOd  SERMON     XIII. 

heart,  of  unfettling  your  imagination,  of  weakening  your 
faith,  and  of  filling  your  mind  with  anxiety  and  trouble  ; 
when  we  fliould  judge  of  the  fecurity  of  this  ftate  merely 
from  what  you  continually  tell  us,  that  you  are  incapable 
of  arranging  yourfelf  for  prayer,  and  that,  on  your  part, 
it  is  always  attended  with  an  infupportable  difguft  and  wea- 
finefs  ;  I  fay,  that  for  thefe  reafons  alone,  the  moft  inno- 
cent worldly  life  is  a  life  of  fin  and  reprobation  ;  a  life  for 
which  there  is  no  falvation  ;  for  falvation  is  promifed  fole- 
ly  to  prayer  ;  falvation  is  not  attainable,  but  through  the 
aid  of  prayer  ;  falvation  is  granted  only  to  perfeverance 
in  prayer ;  confequently,  every  life  which  places  an  in- 
vincible obftacle  in  the  way  of  prayer  can  have  no  preten- 
tions to  falvation.  Now,  you  are  fully  fenfible  yourfelves, 
my  brethren,  that  a  life  of  diflipation,  of  gaming,  of  plea- 
fure,  and  of  public  places,  puts  an  efTential  obftacle  in  the 
way  of  prayer ;  that  it  places  in  your  heart,  in  your  ima- 
gination, in  your  fenfes,  an  invincible  difguft  at  prayer, 
an  unfettlednefs  incompatible  with  the  fpirit  of  prayer; 
you  continually  complain  of  this ;  you  even  make  ufe  of 
it  as  a  pretext  not  to  pray  ;  and  from  thence  be  aftured 
that  there  is  no  falvation  for  the  worldly  life,  even  the 
moft  innocent ;  for,  wherever  prayer  is  impoflible,  falva- 
tion muft  likewife  be  fo.  Firft  reafsm  of  the  difgults  and 
of  the  wanderings  of  our  prayers  ;  the  lukewarmnefs  and 
the  infidelity  of  our  life. 

The  fecond  is,  our  little  ufage  of  prayer.  We  pray 
with  difguft,  becaufe  we  feldom  pray.  For,  i/ify,  It  is 
the  practice  alone  of  prayer  which  will  gradually  calm  your 
mind,  which  will  infenfibly  banifh  from  it  the  images  of 
the  world  and  of  vanity,  which  will  difperfe  all  thofe 
clouds  which  produce  all  the  difgufts  and  the  wanderings 
©f  your  prayers,  zdty,  You  muft  afk  for  a  long  time  be- 
fore 


PN  PRAYER.  39 t 

fore  you  can  obtain  ;  you  muft  prefs,  folicit,  and  even 
importune;  the  fweets  and  the  confolations  of  prayer  are 
the  fruit  and  the  reward  of  prayer  itfelf .  3^/y,  There  muft 
be  familiarity,  in  order  to  find  pleafure  in  it.  If  you  fel- 
dom  pray,  the  Lord  will  be  a  ftrange  and  an  unknown  God 
to  you,  as  I  may  fay,  before  whom  you  will  feel  yourfelf 
embarrafled,  and  under  a  kind  of  reflraint ;  with  whom 
you  will  never  experience  thofe  overflowings  of  heart, 
that  fweet  confidence,  that  holy  freedom,  which  familiari- 
ty alone  beftows,  and  which  conflitute  the  whole  pleafure 
of  the  divine  intercourfe.  God  requires  to  be  known,  in 
order  to  be  loved.  The  world  lofes  by  being  examined  ; 
the  furfaee,  and  the  firft  glance  of  it,  are  alone  fmiling. 
Search  deeper,  and  it  is  no  longer  but  emptinefs,  vanity, 
anxious  care,  agitation,  and  mifery.  But  the  Lord  muft 
be  tailed,  fays  the  prophet,  in  order  to  feel  how  good  he 
is.  The  more  you  know,  the  more  you  love  him ;  the 
more  you  unite  yourfelf  to  him,  the  more  do  you  feel  that 
there  is  no  true  happinefs  on  the  earth,  but  that  of  know, 
ing  and  of  loving  him. 

It  is  the  ufe,  therefore,  of  prayer,  which  alone  can  ren- 
der prayer  pleafing.  Thus  we  fee,  that  the  generality  of 
perfons  who  complain  of  the  difgufts  and  of  the  wander- 
ings of  their  prayers,  feldom  pray  ;  think  this  important 
duty  fulfilled,  when  they  have  beftowed  upon  the  Lord  a 
few  hafly  moments  of  thougbtlefTnefs  and  reflraint ;  for- 
fake  it  on  the  firfl  fymptoms  of  difguft ;  make  no  exertion 
to  reduce  and  to  familiarife  their  mind  to  it ;  and  far  from 
confidering  prayer  as  being  rendered  only  more  necefTary 
to  them,  by  their  invincible  repugnance  to  it,  they  regard 
that  very  repugnance  as  a  legal  excufe,  which  difpenfes 
them  altogether  from  it. 


But 


39*  SERMON    XIII. 

But  how  find  time  in  the  world,  you  will  lay,  to  make 
fo  long  and  fo  frequent  an  ufe  of  prayer  ?  You,  my  dear 
hearer,  not  find  time  to  pray  ?  But  wherefore  is  time  given 
to  you,  but  to  entreat  of  God  to  forget  your  crimes,  to 
look  upon  you  with  eyes  of  compaflion,  and  to  place  you 
one  day  among  the  number   of  his  holy !  You  have  not 
time  to  pray  ?  But  you  have  not  time,  then,  to  be  a  Chrif- 
tian  ?  For,  a  man  who  prays  not,  is  a  man  who  has  no 
God,  no  worfhip,  and  no  hope.     You   have  not   time  to 
pray  ?  But  prayer  is  the  beginning  of  all  good  ;  and  if  you 
do  not  pray,  you  have  not  yet  performed  a  fingle  work 
for  eternal  life.     Ah  !  my  brethren,  is  time  ever  wanting 
to  folicitthe  favours  of  the  earth,  to  importune  the  mailer, 
to  befiege  thofe  who  are  in  place,  to  bellow  upon  pleafures, 
or  upon  idlenefs  ?  What  ufelefs  moments !  What  languid 
and  tirefome   days,  through  the  mere  gloom  which  ever 
accompanies  idlenefs  !  What  time  loft  in  vain  ceremonials, 
in   idle  converfations,  in   boundlefs   gaming,  in   fruitlefs 
fubje&ions,  in  grafping  at   chimeras  which  move  farther 
and  farther  from  us !   Great  God  !  And  time  is  wanted  to 
afk  heaven  of  thee,  to  appeafe  thy   wrath,  and  to  fuppli- 
cate  thine  eternal  mercies  !  How  humbly,  O  my  God,  mult 
falvation  be  eftimated,  when  time  is  wanted  to  entreat  of 
thy  mercy  to  fave  us !  And  how  much  are  we  to  be  de- 
plored, to  find  fo  many  moments  for  the  world,  and  to  be 
unable  to  find  a  fingle  one  for  eternity  !  Second  caufe  of 
the  difgufts,  and  of  the  wanderings  of  our  prayers  ;  the  lit- 
tle ufe  of  prayer  itfelf. 

It  is  true,  my  brethren,  that  this  reafon  is  not  fo  gene- 
ral, but  what  fouls,  the  molt  faithful  to  prayer,  are  often 
feen  to  experience  all  thole  difgufts  and  thofe  wanderings 
of  which  I  fpeak :  but  I  fay,  that  thefe  difgufts   proceed 

from 


ON  PRAYER. 


393 


From  the  wifdom  of  God,  who  means  to  purify  them,  and 
who  leads  them  by  that  path,  only  in  order  to  fulfil  his 
eternal  defigns  of  mercy  upon  them  ;  laft  reafon  ;  that  con- 
fequently,  far  from  being  repulfed  by  what  they  find  gloomy 
and  difagreeable  in  prayer,  they  ought  to  perfervere  in  it, 
with  even  more  fidelity,  than  if  the  Lord  had  fried  upon 
them  the  molt  abundant  and  the  molt  fenfible  confolations. 

lftly,  Becaufe  you  ought  to  confider  thefe  difgufts  as  the 
jufl  punilhment  of  your  paft  infidelities.  Is  it  not  reafona- 
ble,  that  God  make  you  expiate  the  criminal  voluptuouf- 
nefs  ot  your  worldly  life  by  the  difgufts  and  the  forrows 
of  piety  ?  Weaknefs  of  temperament  does  not  perhaps  per- 
mit you,  to  punifh,  by  corporeal  fuflferings,  the  licentiouf- 
nefs  of  your  paft  manners;  is  it  not  juft  that  God  fupply 
that,  by  the  punilhment,  and  the  inward  afflictions  of  the 
mind  ?  Would  you  pretend  to  pafs  in  an  inftant  from  the 
pleafures  of  the  world  to  thofe  of  grace ;  from  the  viands 
of  Egypt,  to  the  milk  and  honey  of  the  land  of  promife, 
without  the  Lord  having  firft  made  you  to  undergo  the 
barrennefs  and  the  fatigues  of  the  defert ;  and,  in  a  word, 
that  he  mould  not  chaftife  the  delights,  If  I  may  venture 
to  fay  fo,  of  guilt,  but  by  thofe  of  virtue. 

2dly,  You  have  fo  long  refufed  yourfelf  to  God,  in 
fpite  of  the  moft  lively  infpirations  of  his  grace,  which 
recalled  you  to  the  truth  and  to  the  light ;  you  have  fo 
long  fuffcred  him  to  knock  at  the  gate  of  your  heart  be- 
fore you  opened  it  to  him ;  you  have  difputed,  ftruggled 
againft,  wavered,  deferred  fo  much,  before  you  gave  your- 
iclf  to  him  ;  is  it  not  juft  that  he  leave  you  to  folicit  for 
iome  time  before  he  give  himfelf  to  you  with  all  the  con- 
folations of  his  grace  ?  The  delays  and  the  tarryings  of  the 
Lord  are  the  juft  punifhment  of  your  own. 

Vol.  I.  B  3  But, 


394 


SERMON     XIII. 


But,  even  admitting  thefe  reafons  to  be  lefs  weighty, 
how  do  you  know  if  the  Lord  thereby  mean  not  to  render 
this  exilement  and  this  reparation  in  which  we  live  from  him 
more  hateful  to  you,  and  to  increafe  the  fervency  of  your 
longings  for  that  immortal  country  where  truth,  feen  in  open 
day,  will  always  appear  lovely,  becaufe  we  (hall  fee  it 
fuch  as  it  is  ?  How  do  you  know  if  he  thereby  mean  not 
to  infpire  you  with  new  compunction  for  your  paft  crimes, 
by  making  you  fenfible,  at  every  moment,  of  the  contra- 
riety and  difguft  which  they  have  left  in  your  heart  to  the 
truth  and  to  righteoufnefs  ?  Laftly,  How  do  you  know, 
if  the  Lord  mean  not,  by  thefe  difgufts,  to  perleft  the  pu- 
rification oi  what  may  as  yet  be  too  human  in  your  piety  ? 
If  he  mean  not  to  eftablifh  your  virtue  upon  that  truth 
which  is  always  the  fame,  and  not  upon  inclination  and 
fancy,  which  inceffantly  change  ;  upon  rules  which  are 
eternal,  and  not  upon  confolations  which  are  tranfitory  ; 
upon  faith  which  never  fails  to  facrifice  the  vifible  for 
the  invifible  riches,  and  not  upon  feeling  which  leaves 
to  the  world  almoft  the  fame  empire  that  grace  hath 
over  your  heart  ?  A  piety  wholly  of  fancy  goes  a  fhort  way, 
if  not  fuftained  and  confirmed  by  the  truth.  It  is  danger- 
ous to  let  our  fidelity  depend  upon  the  feeling  difpofitions 
of  an  heart  which  is  never  an  inflant  the  fame,  and  upon 
which  every  object  makes  new  impreffions.  The  du- 
ties which  only  pleafe  when  they  confole,  do  not  pleafe 
long  ;  and  that  virtue  which  is  folely  founded  on  fancy, 
can  never  fuftain  itfelf,  becaufe  it  refls  only  upon  our- 
felves. 

For,  after  all,  if  you  feek  only  the  Lord  in  your  prayers, 
provided  that  the  way  by  which  he  leads  you  conduct  to 
him,  it  ought  to  matter  little  to  you  whether  it  be  by  that 
of  difgufts   or  of  confolations,  for,  being   the  furcft,  it 

ought 


ON  PRAYER.  395 

ought  always  to  appear  preferable  to  all  others.  If  you 
pray  only  to  attracl  more  aids  from  heaven  in  relief  of 
your  wants,  or  in  fupport  of  your  weaknefs,  faith  teach- 
ing you  that  prayer,  even  when  accompanied  with  thofe 
difguftsand  thofe  drynefles,  obtains  the  fame  favours,  pro- 
duces the  fame  effects,  and  is  equally  acceptable  to  God, 
as  that  in  which  fenfible  confolations  are  found  :  What  do 
I  fay  ?  that  it  may  become  even  more  agreeable  to  the 
Lord,  through  your  acceptance  oi  the  difficulties  which 
you  there  encounter ;  faith  teaching  you  this,  you  ought 
to  be  equally  faithful  to  prayer  as  if  it  held  out  the  molt 
fenfible  attractions,  otherwife  it  would  not  be  God  whom 
you  fought,  butyourfelves  ;  it  would  not  be  eternal  riches, 
but  vain  and  fleeting  confolations ;  it  would  not  be  the  re- 
medies of  faith,  but  the  fupports  of  your  felf-Jove. 

Thus,  be  whom  you  may  who  now  liften  to  me,  imitate 
the  woman  of  Canaan  ;  be  faithful  to  prayer,  and  in  the 
fulfilment  of  this  duty  you  will  find  all  the  reft  fuflained 
and  rendered  eafy.  If  a  finner,  pray  :  it  was  through 
payer  alone  that  the  publican  and  the  finful  woman  of  the 
gofpel  obtained  feelings  of  compunction,  and  the  grace  of 
a  thorough  penitence ;  and  prayer  is  the  only  fource  and 
the  only  path  of  righteoufnefs.  If  righteous,  ftill  pray ; 
perfeverance  in  faith  and  in  piety  is  promifed  only  to  pray- 
er  ;  and  by  that  it  was  that  Job,  that  David,  that  Tobias 
perfevered  to  the  end.  If  you  live  amid  finners,  and  your 
duty  does  not  permit  you  to  withdraw  yourfelf  from  the 
fight  of  their  irregularities  and  example,  pray  :  the  greater 
the  dangers,  the  more  neceflary  does  prayer  become ;  and 
the  three  children  in  the  flames,  and  Jonah  in  the  belly  of 
a  monfter,  found  fafety  only  through  prayer.  If  the  en- 
gagements of  your  birth,  or  of  your  ftation,  attach  you  to 
the  court  of  kings,  pray  :  Either,  in  the  court  of  Ahafue- 

rus. 


396  SERMON     XIII; 

rus,  Daniel  in  that  of  Darius,  the  prophets  in  the  palaces 
of  the  kings  of  Ifrael,  were  folely  indebted  to  prayer  for 
their  life  and  falvation.  If  you  live  in  retirement,  pray : 
folitude  itfelf  becomes  a  rock,  if  a  continual  intercourfe 
with  God  does  not  defend  us  againft  ourfelves  ;  and  Judith* 
in  the  fecrecy  of  her  houfe,  and  the  widow  Ann  in  the 
temple,  and  the  Anthonies  in  the  defert,  found  the  fruit  and 
the  fecurity  of  their  retreat  in  prayer  alone.  If  eftablifh- 
ed  in  the  church  for  the  inftru&ion  of  the  people,  pray  : 
all  the  power  and  all  the  fuccefs  of  your  miniftry  mufl  de- 
pend upon  your  prayers  ;  and  the  apoftles  converted  the 
univerfe  folely  becaufe  they  had  appropriated  nothing  to 
themfelves  but  prayer  and  the  preaching  of  the  gofpel. 
Laftly,  Be  whom  you  may,  I  again  repeat  it,  in  profperity, 
or  in  indigence,  in  joy  or  in  affli&ion,  in  trouble  or  in 
peace,  in  fervency  or  in  defpondency,  in  luft  or  in  the 
ways  of  righteoufnefs,  advanced  in  virtue,  or  flill  in  the 
firft  fteps  of  penitence,  pray  :  prayer  is  the  fafety  of  all 
ftations,  the  confolation  of  all  forrows,  the  duty  of  all 
conditions,  the  foul  of  piety,  the  fupport  of  faith,  the 
grand  foundation  of  religion,  and  all  religion  itfelf.  O 
my  God !  fhed  then  upon  us  that  fpirit  of  grace  and  of  pray- 
er which  was  to  be  the  diftinguilhing  mark  of  thy  church, 
and  the  portion  of  a  new  people ;  and  purify  our  hearts 
and  our  lips,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  offer  up  to  thee 
pure  homages,  fervent  fighs,  and  prayers  worthy  of  the 
eternal  riches  which  thou  haft  fo  often  promifed  to  thofe 
who  fhall  have  well  entreated  them. 


SERMON 


SERMON  XIV. 

FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES. 


Matthew  v.  43. 

Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been /aid,  Thou  Jhalt  love  thy 
neighbour -and  hate  thine  enemy  :  But  I  fay  unto  you, 
love  your  enemies. 

It  is  commonly  believed  that  a  degree  of  indulgence  and 
caution  had  been  ufed  by  the  legiflator  of  the  Jews,  in 
publishing  the  law  on  forgivenefs  of  injuries,  that  obliged 
to  accommodate  it,  in  fome  refpecV  to  the  weaknefs  of  a 
carnal  people,  and  otherwife  perfuaded  that,  of  all  virtues, 
that  of  loving  an  enemy  was  the  moft  difficult  to  the  heart 
of  man,  he  was  fatisfied  with  regulating  and  prefcribing 
bounds  for  revenge.  It  was  only  in  order  to  prevent  great 
exceffes,  lays  St.  Auguftin,  that  he  meant  to  give  authority 
to  fmaller  ones.  The  law,  like  all  the  others,  had  its  fanc- 
tity,  its  goodnefs,  its  juftice  ;  but  it  was  rather  an  eftab- 
lifhment  of  polity  than  a  rule  of  piety.  It  was  calculated 
to  maintain  the  internal  tranquillity  of  the  ftate ;  but  it 
neither  touched  the  heart,  nor  ftruck  at  the  root  of  hatreds 
and  revenge.  The  only  effecT:  propoled  was  either  to  reftrain 
the  aggreflbr,  by  threatening  him  with  the  fame  punifhment 
with  which  he  had  grieved  his  brother,  or  to  put  a  check 

upon 


398  SERMON    XIV. 

upon  the  irritation  of  the  offended,  by  letting  him  fee  that, 
if  he  exceeded  in  the  fatisfaclion  required,  he  expofed  him- 
felf  to  undergo  all  the  furplus  of  his  revenge. 

Philofophers,  in  their  morality,  had  alfo  placed  the  for- 
givenefs  of  injuries  among  the^number  of  virtues  ;  but  that 
was  a  pretext  of  vanity,  rather  than  the  rule  of  difcipline. 
It  is  becaufe  revenge  feemed  to  them  to  carry  along  with  it 
fomething,  I  know  not  what,  of  mean  and  paflionate, 
which  would  have  disfigured  the  portrait,  and  the  proud 
tranquillity  of  their  fage  :  that  it  appeared  difgraceful  to 
them  to  be  unable  to  rife  fuperior  to  an  injury.  The  for- 
givenefs  of  their  enemies  was  folely  founded,  therefore, 
upon  the  contempt  in  which  they  held  them.  They  aveng- 
ed themfelves  by  difdaining  revenge  ;  and  pride  readily 
gave  up  the  pleafure  of  hurting  thofe  who  have  injured  us, 
for  the  pleafure  which  was  found  in  defpifing  them. 

But  the  law  of  the  gofpel,  upon  loving  our  enemies, 
neither  flatters  pride  nor  fpares  felf-love.  In  the  forgive- 
nefs  of  injuries  nothing  ought  to  indemnify  the  Chriftian, 
but  the  conlolation  of  imitating  Jefus  Chrift,  and  of  obey- 
ing him ;  but  the  claims,  which,  in  an  enemy,  prove  to 
him  a  brother;  but  the  hope  of  meeting,  before  the  Eter- 
nal Judge,  with  the  fame  indulgence  which  he  fhall  have 
ufed  towards  men.  Nothing  ought  to  limit  him  in  his 
charity,  but  charity  itfelf,  which  hath  no  bounds,  which 
excepts  neither  places,  times,  nor  perfons,  which  ought 
never  to  be  extinguifhed.  And,  mould  the  religion  of 
Chriflians  have  no  other  proof  againft  unbelief  than  the 
fublime  elevation  of  this  maxim,  it  would  always  have  this 
pre-eminence  in  fanclity,  and  confequently  in  apparent 
truth  overall  the  fe6ls  which  have  ever  appeared  upon  the 
earth. 

Let 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  399 

Let  us  unfold,  therefore,  the  motives  and  the  rules  of 
this  eflential  point  of  the  law  :  the  motives,  by  eftablifhing 
the  equity  of  the  precept  through  the  very  pretexts  which 
feem  to  oppofe  it ;  the  rules,  by  laying  open  the  illufions 
under  which  every  one  juftifies  to  himfelt  their  infractions : 
that  is  to  fay,  the  injuftice  of  our  hatreds,  and  the  falfity 
of  our  reconciliations. 

Part  I.  The  three  principles  which  ufually  bind  men 
to  each  other,  and  by  which  are  formed  all  human  unions 
and  friendfhips,  are  fancy,  cupidity,  and  vanity.  Fancy. 
We  follow  a  certain  propenfity  of  nature,  which  being  the 
caufe  of  our  finding,  in  fome  perfons,  a  greater  fimilarity 
to  our  own  inclinations,  perhaps  alfo  greater  allowances 
for  our  faults,  binds  us  to  them,  and  occafions  us  to  find, 
in  their  fociety,  a  comfort  which  becomes  wearinefs  in  that 
of  the  reft  of  men.  Cupidity.  We  feek  out  ufeful  friends; 
from  the  moment  that  they  are  necefTary  to  our  pleafure  or 
to  our  fortune,  they  become  worthy  of  our  friendfhip  ;  inter- 
eft  is  a  grand  charm  to  the  majority  of  hearts ;  the  titles  which 
render  us  powerful,  are  quickly  tranfmuted  into  qualities 
which  render  us  apparently  amiable,  and  friends  are  never 
wanting,  when  we  can  pay  the  friendihip  of  thofe  who 
love  us.  Laftly.  Vanity.  Friends  who  do  us  honour 
are  always  dear  to  us  ;  it  would  feem  that,  in  loving  them> 
we  enter,  as  it  were,  into  partnerfhip  with  them,  in  that 
diftin&ion  which  they  enjoy  in  the  world  ;  we  feek  to 
deck  ourfel  ves,  as  I  may  fay,  with  their  reputation  ;  and,  be- 
ing unable  to  reach  their  merit,  we  pride  ourfelves  in  their 
fociety,  in  order  to  have  it  fuppofed  that,  at  leaft,  there  is. 
not  much  betwixt  us,  and  that  like  loves  like. 

Thefe  are  the  three  great  ties  of  human  fociety.  Reli- 
gion  and  chanty  unite  almoft  nobody  ;  and  from  thence  if 


400  SERMON     XIV. 

is,  that  from  the  moment  men  offend  our  fancy,  that  they 
are  unfavourable  to  our  interefts,  or  that  they  wound  our 
reputation  and  our  vanity,  the  human  and  brittle  ties  which 
united  us  to  them  are  broken  afunder ;  our  heart  withdraws 
from  them,  and  no  longer  finds  in  itfelf,  with  refpeft  to 
them,  but  animofity  and  bitternefs.  And  behold  the  three 
moft  general  fources  of  thofe  hatreds  which  men  nourifh 
againft  each  other  ;  which  change  all  the  fweets  of  fociety 
into  endlefs  inveteracies  ;  which  empoifon  all  the  delight  of 
converfations,  and  all  the  innocency  of  mutual  intercourfe ; 
and  which,  attacking  religion  in  the  heart,  neverthelefs 
prefent  themfelves  to  us  under  appearances  of  equity, 
which  juftify  them  in  our  eyes,  and  ftrengthen  us  in  them. 

I  fay,  from  the  moment  that  men  offend  our  fancy; 
and  this  is  the  firft  pretext,  and  the  firft  fource  of  our 
withdrawing  from,  and  of  our  hatreds  againft  our  brethren. 
You  fay  that  you  cannot  accord  with  fuch  a  perfon  ;  that 
every  thing  in  him  offends  and  difpleafes  you  ;  that  it  is  an 
antipathy  which  you  cannot  conquer ;  that  all  his  manners 
feem  fafhioned  to  irritate  you  ;  that  to  fee  him  would  an- 
fwer  the  fole  purpofe  of  augmenting  the  natural  averfion 
which  vou  have  to  him  ;  and  that  nature  hath  placed  with- 
in us  hatreds  and  likings,  conformities  and  averfions,  for 
which  fhe  alone  is  to  be  an! werable. 

To  this  I  might  at  once  anfwer,  by  eftablifhing  the  foun- 
dations of  the  Chriftiaa  do&rine  upon  loving  our  brethren  : 
Is  that  man,  in  confequence  of  difpleafing,  and  being 
difagreeable  to  your  fancy,  lefs  your  brother,  child  of  God, 
citizen  ot  Heaven,  member  of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  inheritor 
of  the  eternal  promifes  ?  Doth  his  humour,  his  character, 
whatever  it  may  be,  efface  any  one  of  thofe  auguft  trafts 
which  he   hath  received   upon    the    facred    font,    which 

unit'" 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  401 

which  unite  him  to  you  by  divine  and  immortal  ties,  and 
which  ought  to  render  him  dear  and  refpeclable  to  you  ? 
When  Jefus  Chrifl  commands  us  to  love  our  brethren  as 
ourfelves,  doth  he  mean  to  make  a  precept  which  coils  no- 
thing to  the  heart,  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  which  we  found 
neither  difficulty  nor  hardfhip  ?  Ah  !  What  occafion  had 
he  to  command  us  to  love  our  brethren,  if,  in  virtue  of 
that  commandment,  we  were  obliged  to  love  only  thofe  for 
whom  we  feel  a  natural  fancy  and  inclination.  The  heart 
bath  no  occafion,  on  this  point,  for  precept ;  it  is  its  own 
law.  The  precept  then  fuppofes  a  difficulty  on  our 
part :  Jefus  Chrifl  hath,  therefore,  forefeen,  that  it  would 
be  hard  upon  us  to  love  our  brethren  ;  that  we  fhould  find 
within  us  antipathies  anddiflikes  which  would  withdraw  us 
from  them  ;  and  behold  why  he  hath  attached  fo  much  merit 
to  the  obfervance  of  this  fingle  point,  and  hath  (o  often  de- 
clared to  us  that,  to  obferve  it,  was  to  obierve  the  whole 
law.  Averfion  to  our  brethren,  far  then  from  juftifying 
our  eftrangement  from  them,  renders  to  us,  on  the  contrary, 
the  obligation  of  loving  them  more  precife,  and  places  us 
personally  in  the  cafe  "of  the  precept. 

But  befidcs,  ought  a  Chriftian  to  be  regulated  by  fancy 
and  humour,  or  by  the  principles  of  reafon,  of  faith,  of 
religion,  and  of  grace  ?  And  fi nee  when  is  the  natural 
fancy,  which  we  are  commanded  by  the  gofpel  to  oppofe, 
become  a  privilege  which  difpenfes  us  from  its  rules  ?  If 
the  repugnance  felt  for  duties  were  a  title  of  exemption, 
where  is  the  believer  who  would  not  be  quit  of  the  whole 
law,  and  who  would  not  find  his  juflification  and  his  inno- 
cency,  in  proportion  as  he  felt  a  greater  degree  of  corrup- 
tion in  his  heart  ?  Are  our  fancies  our  law  ?  Is  religion  on- 
ly the  Support,  and  not  the  remedy  of  nature  ?  Is  it  not  a 
weaknefs,  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  icgulate  our 

Vol.  I.  C  3  fleps 


402 


SERMON     XIV. 


fteps  and  our  fentiments,  our  hatreds  and  our  love  towards 
men,  merely  upon  the  caprices  of  a  fancy  for  which  we 
can  give  no  reafon  ourfelves  ?  Do  men  of  this  defcription 
do  great  credit,  I  do  not  fay  to  religion,  but  to  humanity  ? 
And  are  they  not,  even  to  the  world  itfelf,  a  fpe&acle  of- 
contempt,  of  derifion,  and  of  cenfure  ?  What  a  chaos  would 
fociety  be,  if  fancy  alone  were  to  decide  upon  our  duties, 
and  upon  reciprocal  attentions,  and  if  men  were  to  be  uni- 
ted by  no  other  law  ?  Now,  if  the  rules  even  of  lociety, 
exacl,  that  fancy  alone  be  not  thefole  principle  of  our  con- 
duct towards  the  reft  of  men,  fhould  the  gofpel  be  more  in- 
dulgent on  that  point  ?  The  gofpel,  which  preaches  only 
felt-denial ;  which  every  where  commands  us  to  do  vio- 
lence upon  ourfelves,  and  to  ftrive  againfl  our  fancies  and 
our  affections  ;  which  demands  that  we  a£t.  through  views 
fuperior  to  flefh  and  blood,  and  that  we  hefitate  not  to  fa- 
crifice  to  the  fanclity  of  faith,  and  to  the  fublimity  of  its 
rules,  not  only  our  caprices,  but  our  moft  legal  inclina- 
tions. 

It  is  therefore  abfurd,  to  alledge  to  us  an  averfion  to 
your  brother,  which  is  itfelf  your  guilt.  I  might  further 
fay  :  You  complain  that  your  brother  is  difpleafing  to 
you,  and  that  it  is  not  poffible  for  you  to  bear  with,  or  to 
be  in  agreement  with  him  ;  but  do  you  fuppofe,  that  you 
yourfelf  are  difpleafing  to  none  ?  Can  you  guarantee  to 
us,  that  you  are  univerfally  liked,  and  that  every  one  ap- 
plauds and  approves  you  ?  Now,  if  you  exaft,  that  every 
thing  offenfive  in  your  manners  be  excufed,  upon  thegood- 
nefs  of  your  heart,  and  on  account  of  thofe  eflential  quali- 
ties upon  which  you  pride  yourfelf;  if  to  you,  it  appear 
unreafonable  to  be  offended  at  nothings,  and  by  certain 
fallies  of  which  we  cannot  always  command ;  it  you  infill 
upon  being  judged  by  the  Confequence,  by  the  ground- 
work, 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  403 

work,  by  the  re&itude  of  your  fentiments  and  conduct, 
and  not  in  confequence  of  thofe  humours  which  fometimes 
involuntarily  efcape  you,  and  upon  which  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  be  always  guarded  againft  one's  felf  :  have  the  fame 
equity  for  your  brother;  apply  the  fame  rule  to  yourfelf; 
bear  with  him  as  you  have  occafion  to  be  borne  with  your 
felf;  and  do  not  juflify  by  your  eftrangement  from  him, 
the  unjuft  averfions  which  may  be  had  to  yourfelf.  And 
this  rule  is  fo  much  the  more  equitable,  as  that  you  have 
only  to  caft  your  eyes  upon  what  is  continually  palling  in 
the  world,  to  be  convinced  that  thofe  who  are  loudeft 
in  trumpeting  forth  the  faults  of  their  brethren,  are  the 
very  perfons  with  whom  nobody  can  agree,  who  are  the 
pefts  of  focieties,   and  a  grievance  to  the  reft  of  men. 

And  I  might  here  demand  of  you,  my  dear  hearer,  if 
this  principle  of  contrariety,  which  renders  your  brother 
fo  infupportable  to  you,  be  not  more  in  yourfelf,  that  is 
to  fay,  in  your  pride,  in  the  capricioufnefs  of  your  temper, 
in  the  contrariety  of  your  character,  than  in  this  ;  demand 
of  you,  if  all  the  world  fee  in  him  what  you  believe  to 
fee  yourfelf;  if  his  friends,  his  relations,  his  intimates  look 
upon  him  with  the  fame  eyes  that  you  do  ?  What  do  I 
know  !  I  might  demand  of  you,  if  that  which   difpleafes 
you  in  him,  be  not  perhaps  his  good  qualities  :  if  his  ta- 
lents, his  reputation,  his  credit  and  his  fortune,  have  not 
perhaps  a  greater  fhare  in  your  averfion,  than  his  faults  ; 
and  if  it  be  not  his  merit  or  his  rank  which  have  hitherto 
in  your  fight  conflituted  his   whole  crime.     We  are  fo 
eafily  deceived  in  this  point  !  Envy  is  a  paflion  fo  mafked, 
and  fo  artful  in  difguifing   itfelf!  As   there   is   fomething 
mean  and  rafcally   in   it,  and  as  it  is  a  fecret  confeflion 
made  toourfelves  of  our  own  mediocrity,  it  always  fliews 
itfelf  to  us  under  foreign  out  fides,  which  completely  con- 
ceal 


404  SERMON     XIV. 

ceal  it  from  us ;  but  fathom  your  heart,  and  you  will  fee 
that  all  thofe,  who  either  furpafs,  or  who  fhine  with  too  much 
luflre  near  you,  have  the  misfortune  to  difpleafe  you  ;  that 
you  find  amiable,  only  thofe  who  have  nothing  to  conteft 
with  you  ;  that  all  who  rife  above,  or  are  even  equal  to 
you,  conftrain  and  hurt  you  ;  and  that  to  have  a  claim  to 
your  friendfhip,  it  is  neceffary  to  have  none  either  to  your 
pretentions  or  expectancies. 

But  I  go  flill  further,  and  I  entreat  you  to  Men  to  me. 
I  admit  your  brother  to  have  more  faults  than  even  you  ac- 
cufe  him  of  having.  Alas  !  You  are  fo  gentle  and  fo 
friendly  towards  thofe,  from  whom  you  expect  your  for- 
tune and  your  eftablifhment,  and  whofe  temper,  haughti- 
nefs,  and  manners  fhock  you  !  You  bear  with  all  their 
pride,  their  repulfes,  their  fcorns ;  you  fwallow  all  their 
inequalities  and  caprices  :  You  are  never  difheartened ; 
your  patience  is  always  greater  than  your  antipathy  and 
your  repugnance,  and  you  negle£f.  nothing  to  pleafe.  Ah  ! 
If  you  regarded  your  brother,  as  he  upon  whom  depends 
eternal  falvation,  as  he  to  whom  you  are  to  be  indebted, 
not  for  a  fortune  of  dirt,  and  an  uncertain  eltablifbment, 
but  for  the  fortune  even  of  your  eternity,  would  you  fol- 
low, with  regard  to  him,  the  caprice  of  your  fancy  ? 
Would  you  not  conquer  the  unjuft  antipathy  which  eftran- 
ges  you  from  him  ?  Would  you  fuffer  fo  much  in  putting 
your  inclinations  in  unifon  with  your  eternal  interefls,  and 
in  doing  upon  yourfelf  fo  ufeful  and  fo  neceffary  a  vio- 
lence ?  You  bear  with  every  thing  for  the  world  and  for 
vanity  ;  and  you  cry  out,  how  hard  !  from  the  moment  that 
a  fingle  painful  proceeding  is  exacted  of  you  for  eternity. 

And  fay  not  that  there  are  caprices  of  nature,  of  which 
no  account  can  be  given,  and  that  we  are  not  the  mailers 

of 


FORGIVENESS  OF   INJURIES  405 

of  our  fancies  and  likings.     I  grant  this  to  a  certain'point  ; 
but  there  is  a  love  of  reafon  and  of  religion,  which  ought 
always   to  gain  the  day  over  that  of  nature.     The  gofpel 
exa£ls  not  that  you  have  a  fancy  for  your  brother,  it  ex- 
afts  that  you  love  him ;  that  is  to  fay,  that  you  bear  with 
him,  that  you  excufe  him,  that  you  conceal  his    faults, 
that  you  ferve  him  ;  in  a  word,  that  you  do  for  him  what- 
ever you  would  wifh  to  have  done  for  yourfelf.     Charity 
is  not  a  blind  and  capricious  fancy,  a  natural  liking,  afym- 
pathy  of  temper  and  difpofition  ;  it  is  a  juft,  enlightened, 
and  reafonable  duty;  a  love  which  takes  its  rife  in  the  im- 
pulies  of  grace,  and  in  the  views  of  faith.     It  is  not  right- 
ly loving  our  brethren,  to  love  them  only  through  fancy  ; 
it  is  loving  one's  felf.     Charity  alone  enables  us  to  love 
them  as  we  ought,  and  it  alone  can  form  real  and  fledfaft 
friends.     For  fancy  is  continually  changing,  and  charity 
never  dieth  ;  fancy  feeks  only  itfelf,  and  charity  feeketh 
not  its  own  interefls,  but  the  intereft  of  whom  it  loves ; 
fancy  is  not  proof  againfl  every  thing,  a  lofs,  a  proceed- 
ing, a  difgrace,  and  charity  rifeth  fuperior  to  death  :  fan- 
cy loves  only  its  own  conveniency  ;  and  charity  findeth 
nothing  amifs,  and  fuffereth  every  thing  for  whom  it  lov- 
eth  ;  fancy  is  blind,  and  often  renders  even  the  vices  of 
our  brethren  amiable  to  us  ;  and  charity  never  giveth  praife 
to  iniquity,  and  in  others   loveth  only  the  truth.     The 
friends  of  grace  are  therefore  much  more  to  bellied  on 
than  thofe  of  nature.     The   fame  fancy  which  unites  the 
manners,  is  often,  a  moment  after,  the  caufe  of  feparating 
them  ;  but  the  ties  formed  by  charity,  eternally  endure. 

Such  is  the  firft  fource  of  our  likings  and  of  our  ha- 
treds, the  injufliccs  and  the  capricioufnefs  of  our  fancy. 
Interelt  is  the  fecond  :  for  nothing  is  more  common  than 
to  hear  you  juftifying  your  animohties,  by  telling  us  that 

fuch 


.c 


406  SERMON    XIV. 

fuch  a  man  hath  negle&ed  nothing  to  ruin  you  ;  that  h 
has  been  the  mean  of  blafting  your  fortune ;  that  he  con- 
tinually excites  vexatious  matters  againft  you  ;  that  you 
find  him  an  infuperable  impediment  in  your  way,  and  that 
it  is  difficult  to  love  an  enemy  fo  bent  on  injuring  you. 

But  granting  that  you  fpeak  the  truth,  I  anfwer  to  you  : 
to  all  the  other  ills  which  your  brother  hath  caufed  to  you, 
why  mould  you  add  that  of  hating  him,  which  is  the  great- 
eft  of  all,  fince  all  the  others  have  tended  to  ravifh  from 
you  only  fleeting  and  frivolous  riches,  while  this  is  the 
caufe  of  ruin  to  your  foul,  and  deprives  you  for  ever  of 
your  claim  to  an  immortal  kingdom  ?  In  hating  him,  you 
injure  yourfelf  much  more  than  all  his  malignity  with  ref- 
pecl;  to  you  could  ever  do  :  he  hath  ufurped  the  patrimony 
of  your  fathers  ;  it  may  be  fo ;  and,  in  order  to  avenge 
yourfelf,  you  renounce  the  inheritance  of  the  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, and  the  eternal  patrimony  of  Jefus  Chrifh  You 
take  your  revenge  then  upon  yourfelf;  and,  in  order  to 
confole  yourfelf  for  the  ills  done  to  you  by  your  brother, 
you  provide  for  yourfelf  pne  without  end  and  without 
meafure. 

And  moreover,  Does  your  hatred  towards  your  brother 
reftore  any  of  thofe  advantages  which  he  hath  fnatched 
from  you  ?  Does  it  meliorate  your  condition  ?  What  do 
you  reap  from  your  animofity  and  your  rancour  ?  In  hat- 
ing him,  you  fay  that  you  confole  yourfelf;  and  this  is 
the  only  confolation  left  to  you.  What  a  confolation, 
great  God !  is  that  of  hatred,  that  is  to  fay,  of  a  gloomy 
and  furious  paflion,  which  gnaws  the  heart,  fheds  anguifh 
and  forrow  through  ourfelves,  and  begins  by  punifhingand 
rendering  us  miferable  !  What  a  cruel  pleafure  is  that  of 
hating,  that  is  to  fay,  of  bearing  on  the  heart  a   load  of 

rancour 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  407 

rancour,  which  empoifons  every  moment  of  life !  What 
a  barbarous  method  of  confoling  one's  felf !  And  are  you 
not  worthy  of  pity,  to  feek  a  refource  in  your  evils,  which 
anfwers  no  purpofe  but  that  of  eternifing,  by  hatred,  a 
tranfitory  injury  ? 

But  let  us  ceafe  this  human  language,  and  fpeak  that 
of  the  gofpel,  to  which  our  mouths  are  confecrated. 
If  you  were  Chriftian,  my  dear  hearer ;  if  you  had  not 
loft  faith,  far  from  hating  thofe  whom  God  hath  made  in- 
ftrumental  in  blafling  your  hopes  and  your  projects  of  for- 
tune, you  would  regard  them  as  the  inftruments  of  God's 
mercies  upon  your  foul,  as  the  minifters  of  your  fanftifi- 
cation,  and  the  blefTed  rocks  which  have  been  the  means 
of  faving  you  from  fhipwreck.  You  would  have  been  loft 
in  credit  and  in  elevation  ;  you  would  then  have  neglected 
your  God  ;  your  ambition  would  have  increafed  with  your 
fortune,  and  death  would  have  furprifed  you  in  the  vortex 
of  the  world  of  paffions,  and  of  human  expectancies.  But, 
in  order  to  fave  your  foul,  the  Lord,  in  his  great  mercy, 
hath  raifed  up  obftacles  which  have  ftopt  your  courfe.  He 
hath  employed  an  envious  perfon,  a  rival  to  fupplant  you, 
to  keep  you  at  a  diftance  from  favours,  and  to  place  him- 
felf  betwixt  you  and  the  precipice,  into  which  you  was 
running  headlong,  for  ever  to  perifh  :  He  hath  feconded, 
as  I  may  fay,  his  ambition  ;  he  hath  favoured  his  defigns ; 
and,  through  an  incomprehenfible  excefs  of  goodnefs  to- 
wards you,  he  hath  croffed  your  worldly  fchemes  :  He 
hath  raifed  up  your  enemy  in  time,  in  order  to  fave  you  in 
eternity.  You  ought  therefore  to  adore  the  eternal  defigns 
of  his  juftice  and  of  his  mercy  upon  men  ;  to  confider 
your  brother  as  the  blefTed  caufe  of  your  falvation  :  to  en- 
treat of  God,  that,  feeing  his  ambition  or  his  bad  inten- 
tions have  been  employed  to  fave  you,  he  may  infpire  him 

with 


408  SERMON     XIV. 

with  fmcere  repentance,  and  that  the  perfon  who  hath  been 
the  inftrument  ot  your  falvation  be  not  permitted  to  perifh 
himfelf. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  our  hatreds  proceed  entirely  from 
our  want  of  faith.  Alas  !  if  we  regarded  every  thing 
which  paffes,  as  a  vapour  without  fubftance  ;  if  we  were 
thoroughly  convinced  that  all  this  is  nothing,  that  falvation 
is  the  great  and  important  affair,  and  that  our  treafure  and 
our  true  riches  are  only  in  eternity,  where,  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  we  (hall  be:  it  we  were  convinced  of  it, 
alas  !  we  would  confider  men,  who  paflionately  quarrel 
and  difpute  with  each  other,  for  the  dignities  of  the  earth, 
as  children  who  fall  out  among  themfelves  for  the  play- 
things which  amufe  their  eye,  whofe  childifh  hatreds  and 
animoiities  turn  upon  nothings,  which  infancy  alone,  and 
the  feeble  ftate  of  reafon  magnify  in  their  eyes.  Tranquil 
on  the  greateft  and  moll  important  events,  on  the  lofs  of 
the  patrimony  of  their  fathers,  and  the  fall  of  their  family, 
and  keen  even  toexcefs,  when  deprived  ot  any  of  the  lit- 
tle trifling  objecls  which  delight  their  infancy.  Thus,  O 
my  God,  foolifh  and  puerile  men  feel  not  the  lofs  of  their 
heavenly  inheritance,  of  that  immortal  patrimony,  be- 
queathed to  them  by  Jefus  Chrift,  and  which  their  brethren 
are  already  enjoying  in  heaven.  They  unconcernedly  fee 
the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the  only  true  riches  pafs  away 
from  them  ;  and  like  children,  they  are  inflamed  with  rage, 
and  mutually  arm  againft  each  other,  from  the  inftant  that 
their  frivolous  pofTeflions  are  encroached  upon,  or  that  any 
attempt  is  made  to  deprive  them  of  thofe  childifh  play- 
things, the  only  value  or  importance  of  which,  is  that  of 
ferving  to  deceive  their  feeble  reafon,  and  to  amufe  their 
childhood. 


For 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  409 

For  a  Chriftian,  intereft  is  therefore  an  unworthy  and 
criminal  pretext  for  his  hatred  towards  his  brethren  ;  but 
vanity,  which  is  their  laft  refource,  is  ftill  le/s  excufeable. 

For,  ray  brethren,  we  wifh  to  be  approved,  and  to  have 
our  faults  as  well  as  our  virtues  applauded ;  and  although 
we  feel  our  own  weaknefles,  yet  we  are  fo  unreasonable, 
as  to  exa£t.  that  others  fee  them  not,  and  that  they  even 
give  credit  to  us  for  certain  qualities,  which  we  inwardlv 
reproach  to  ourfelves  as  vices.  We  could  wifh  that  all 
mouths  were  filled  folely  with  our  praifes ;  and  that  the 
world,  which  forgives  nothing,  which  fpares  not  even  its 
matters,  mould  admire  in  us  what  it  cenfures  in  others. 

In  effecl:,  you  complain,  that  your  enemy  hath  both 
privately  and  publicly  decried  you ;  that  he  hath  added 
calumny  to  flander;  that  he  hath  attacked  you  in  the  ten- 
dereft  and  moll  feeling  quarter,  and  that  he  hath  neglecled 
nothing  to  blaft  your  honour  and  your  reputation  in  the 
opinion  of  men. 

But,  before  replying  to  this,  I  might  firfl  fay  to  you, 
miftruft  the  reports  which  have  been  made  to  you  of  your 
brother;  the  molt  innocent  fpeeches  reach  us  fbempoifon- 
ed,  through  the  malignity  of  the  tongues  which  have  con- 
veyed them ;  there  are  fo  many  mean  flatterers,  who  feek  to 
be  agreeable  at  the  expence  of  thofe  who  are  not  fo  ;  there 
are  fo  many  dark  and  wicked  minds,  whofe  only  pleaiure 
is  in  finding  out  evil  where  none  is  meant,  and  in  fowing 
diflention  among  men  ;  there  are  fo  many  volatile  and  im- 
prudent characters,  who  unfeafonably,  and  with  an  en- 
venomed air,  repeat  what  at  firft  had  been  only  faid  with 
the  mofl  innocent  intentions ;  there  are  fo  many  men,  na- 
turally given  to  the  hyperbole,  and  in  whofe  mouth  every 

Vol.  I.  D  3  thing 


410  Urmon   xiv. 

thing  is  magnified,  and  departs  from  the  natural  and  fimple 
truth ;  I  here  appeal  to  yourfelf.  Has  it  never  happened 
to  you,  that  your  moll  innocent  fayings  have  been  empoifon- 
ed,  and  circumftances  added  to  your  recitals,  which  you 
had  never  even  thought  of  ?  Have  you  not  then  exclaimed 
againft  the  injuftice  and  the  malignity  of  the  repeaters  ? 
Why  might  not  you,  in  your  turn,  been  deceived  ?  And  it 
every  thing  which  paiTes  through  a  variety  of  channels, 
be  in  general  adulterated,  and  never  reach  us  in  its  original 
purity,  why  mould  you  fuppofe  that  difcourfes,  which  re- 
late to  you  alone,  were  exempted  from  the  fame  lot,  and 
were  entitled  to  more  attention  and  belief  ? 

You  will  no  doubt  reply,  that  thefe  general  maxims  are 
not  the  point  in  queftion,  and  that  the  a&ions  of  which  you 
complain,  are  not  doubtful,  but  pofitive.  I  admit  it ;  and 
I  afk  if  your  brother  have  not  on  his  fide,  the  fame  re- 
proaches to  make  to  you ;  if  you  have  always  been  very 
lenient  and  very  charitable  to  his  faults  ;  ii  you  have  al- 
ways rendered  juftice,  even  to  his  good  qualities;  if  you 
have  never  permitted  him  to  be  reviled  in  your  prefence  ; 
if  you  have  not  aided  the  malignity  of  fuch  difcourfes  by 
an  afTe&ed  moderation,  which  hath  only  tended  to  blow  up 
the  fire  of  detraction,  and  to  fupply  new  traits  againft  your 
brother  ;  I  afk  you,  if  you  are  even  circumfpect  towards 
the  reft  of  men  ;  if  you  readily  forgive  the  weaknefs  of 
others ;  if  your  tongue  be  not  in  general,  dipt  in  worm- 
wood and  gall ;  if  the  beft  eftablilhed  reputation,  be  not  al- 
ways in  danger  in  your  hands ;  and,  if  the  faddeft  and 
moft  private  hiftories,  do  not  fpeedily  become  matter  of 
notoriety,  through  your  malignity  and  imprudence  ;  O 
man  !  Thou  puiheft  delicacy  and  fenfibility  to  fuch  lengths, 
upon  whatever  regards  thyfelf !  We  have  occafion  for  all 
the  terror  of  our   miniftry,  and  for   all    the  other   moil 

weighty 


F0RG1VJENESS  OF  INJURIES.  411 

weighty  inducements  of  religion,  to  bring  thee  to  forgive 
to  thy  brother,  a  fingle  fpeech,  frequently  a  word  which 
imprudence,  which  chance,  which  circumftances,  which 
perhaps  a  juft  refentment  hath  forced  from  him  ;  and  the 
licentioufnefs  of  thy  difcourfes  towards  others,  knows 
neither  the  bonds  of  politertefs,  nor  that  of  decency  which 
the  world  itfelf  prefcribes. 

But,  granting  that  you  have  nothing  to  reproach  your, 
felf  on  the  part  of  moderation  towards  your  brother. 
What  do  you  gain  by  hating  him  ?  Do  you  thereby  efface 
the  fatal  imprefiions  which  his  difcourfes  may  have  left  on 
the  minds  of  men  ?  On  the  contrary,  you  inflict  a  frefh 
wound  upon  your  heart ;  you  give  yourfelf  a  ftab  which 
carries  death  to  your  foul ;  you  wrench  the  fword  from 
his  hands,  if  I  may  fpeak  in  this  manner,  in  order  to  plunge 
it  into  yourfelf.  By  the  innocency  of  your  manners,  and 
the  integrity  of  your  conduct,  make  the  injuftice  of  his 
difcourfes  evident :  deftroy,  by  a  life  free  from  reproach, 
the  prejudices  to  which  he  may  have  given  rife  againft  you  ; 
make  the  meannefs  and  the  iniquity  of  his  calumnies  re- 
vert upon  himfelf,  by  the  practice  of  thofe  virtues,  exact- 
ly oppofite  to  the  faults  which  he  imputes  to  you  :  fuch  is 
the  juft  and  legal  manner  of  revenging  yourfelf.  Triumph 
over  his  malice,  by  your  manners  and  by  your  filence : 
you  will  heap  living  coals  upon  his  head  ;  you  will  gain  the 
public  on  your  fide  ;  you  will  leave  nothing  to  your  ene- 
my, but  the  infamy  of  his  paflion,  and  of  his  impofitions. 
But  hating  him,  is  the  revenge  of  the  weak,  and  the  fad 
confolation  of  the  guilty;  in  a  word,  it  is  the  only  refuge 
of  thofe  who  can  find  none  in  virtue,  and  in  innocence. 

But  let  us  now  quit  all  thefe  reafonings,  and  come  to 
the  effential  point.     You  are  commanded  to  love  thofe  who 

defpitefully 


412  SERMON     XIV. 

defpitef ully  ufe  and  calumniate  you  ;  to  pray  for  them,  to 
entreat  their  converfion  of  God,  that  he  change  their  ran- 
corous heart,  that  he  infpire  them  with  fentiments  of  peace 
and  of  charity,  and  that  he  place  them  among  the  number 
of  his  holy.  You  are  commanded  to  confider  them  as  al- 
ready citizens  of  the  heavenly  Jerufalem,  with  whom  you 
fhall  form  only  one  voice  in  finging  the  immortal  praifes 
of  grace.  You  are  commanded  to  look  upon  injuries  as 
bleflings,  as  the  punifhment  of  your  hidden  crimes,  for 
which  you  have  fo  often  merited  to  be  covered  with  con- 
fufion  before  men ;  as  the  price  of  the  kingdom  of  God, 
which  is  promifed  to  thole  alone,  who  with  piety  bear 
with  perfecution  and  calumny. 

For,  after  all,  it  muft  come  to  this.  Self-love  alone 
would  make  us  to  love  thofe  who  love  us,  who  praife  us, 
who  publifh  our  virtues,  falfe  or  true;  fuch  was  the  whole 
virtue  of  the  Pagans ;  for,  faid  Jefus  Chrift,  if  ye  love 
thofe  that  love  you,  what  reward  have  ye ;  do  not  even  the 
publicans  fo  ?  But  religion  goes  farther:  it  requires  us  to 
love  thofe  who  hate  and  perfecute  us  :  it  fixes  at  that  price 
the  mercies  of  God  upon  us,  and  declares  tOj  us,  that  no 
forgivenefs  is  to  be  expected  for  ourfelves,  if  we  grant 
it  not  to  our  brethren. 

And  candidly,  would  you  have  God  to  forget  the  crimes 
and  the  horrors  of  your  whole  life,  to  be  infenfible  to  his 
own  glory,  which  you  have  fo  often  infulted,  while  you 
cannot  prevail  upon  yourfelf  to  forget  a  word  ;  while  you 
are  fo  warm,  fo  delicate,  and  fo  paflionate  upon  the  inte- 
refts  of  your  glory  ;  you  who  perhaps  enjoy  a  reputation 
which  you  have  never  merited ;  you,  who,  were  you  to 
be  known  fuch  as  you  are,  would  be  covered  with  eternal 
fhame  and  coufufion  ;  you,  in  a  word,  of  whom  the  moft 

injurious 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  413 

injurious  difcourfes  only  imperfe&ly  reprefent  the  fecret 
wretched nefs,  and  of  which  God  alone  knoweth  the  ex- 
tent ?  Great  God  !  how  little  (hall  finners  have  to  fay 
for  themfelves,  when  thou  wilt  pronounce  againft  them  the 
fentence  of  their  eternal  condemnation  ! 

You  will  probably  tell  us,  that  you  perfectly  agree  to  the 
duties  which  religion  hereupon  impofes,  but  that  the  laws 
of  honour  have  prevailed  over  thofe  of  religion  ;  that,  if 
difcourfes  and  proceedings  of  a  certain  defcription  be  tran- 
quilly fubmitted  to,  lafting  difhonour  and  infamy,  in  the 
eyes  of  men,  muft  neceflarily  follow  ;  that  to  forgive  through 
motives  of  religion,  is  neverthelefs  a  ftain  of  cowardice, 
which  the  world  never  pardons,  and  that  on  this  point, 
honour  acknowledges  neither  their  exception  nor  privilege. 

What  is  this  honour,  my  brethren,  which  is  to  be  bought 
only  at  the  price  of  our  fouls,  and  of  our  eternal  falvation  ? 
And  how  worthy  of  pity,  if  guilt  alone  can  fave  from  igno- 
miny !  I  know  that  it  is  here  that  the  falfe  laws  of  the  world 
feem  to  prevail  over  thofe  of  religion;  and  that  the  wifeft 
themfelves,  who  execrate  this  abufe,  are  however  of  opinion 
that  it  muft  be  fubmitted  to.  But  I  fpeak  before  a  Prince, 
who,  wifer  than  the  world,  and  filled  with  a  juft  indigna- 
tion againft  a  madnefs  fo  contrary  to  the  maxims  of  the  gof- 
pel,  as  well  as  to  the  interefts  of  the  ftate,  hath  fhewn  to 
his  fubje&s  what  is  the  true  honour,  and  who,  in  forcing 
criminal  arms  from  their  hands,  hath  marked  with  lafting 
infamy  thofe  barbarous  modes  of  revenge,  to  which  the 
public  error  had  detached  a  deplorable  glory. 

What,  my  brethren,  an  abominable  maxim,  which  the 
barbarity  of  the  firft  manners  of  our  anceftors  alone  hath 
confecrated,  and  handed  down  to  us,  fhould  prevail  over 

all 


414  SERMON     XIV. 

all  the  rules  of  Chriftianity,  and  all  the  moll  inviolable 
rules  of  the  ftate  !  It  mould  be  no  difhonour  to  bathe  your 
hands  in  your  brother's  blood,  while  it  would  be  one  to 
obey  God,  and  the  prince,  who  holds  his  place  in  the 
world  !  Glory  would  no  longer  then  be  but  a  madnefs, 
and  cowardice  but  a  noble  refpecl:  for  religion,  and  for 
our  mafter.  You  dread  pairing  for  a  coward  !  Shew  your 
valour  then  by  fhedding  your  blood  in  the  defence  of  your 
country  ;  go  and  brave  dangers  at  the  head  of  our  armies, 
and  there  feek  glory  in  the  difcharge  of  your  duty  ;  efta- 
blifli  your  reputation  by  a&ions  worthy  of  being  ranked 
among  the  memorable  events  of  a  reign  fo  glorious  ;  fuch 
is  that  valour,  which  the  ftate  requires,  and  which  religion 
authorifes.  Then  defpife  thefe  brutal  and  pei  fonal  ven- 
geances ;  look  upon  them  as  a  childiih  oftentation  of  valour, 
which  is  often  ufed  as  a  cover  to  aclual  cowardice ;  as  the 
vile  and  vulgar  refuge  of  thofe  who  have  nothing  fignal  to 
eftablifh  their  chara&er ;  as  a  forced  and  an  equivocal 
proof  of  courage,  which  the  world  wrefts  from  us.  and 
againft  which  the  heart  often  revolts.  Far  from  imputing 
fhame  to  you,  the  world  itfelt  will  make  it  a  frefh  title  of 
honour  to  you  ;  you  will  be  ftill  more  exalted  in  its  opi- 
nion ;  and  you  will  teach  your  equals,  that  milplaced  valour 
is  nothing  but  a  brutal  fear  ;  that  wifdom  and  moderation 
ever  attend  true  glory ;  that  whatever  diflionours  humani- 
ty can  never  do  honour  to  men  ;  and  that  the  gofpel,  which 
inculcates  and  commands  forgivenefs,  hath  made  more  he- 
roes than  the  world  itfelf,  which  preaches  up  revenge. 

You  will  parhaps  fay  that  thefe  maxims  do  not  regard 
you,  that  you  have  forgotten  all  the  fubjecls  of  complaint 
which  you  had  againft  your  brother,  and  that  a  reconcilia- 
tion hath  put  an  end  to  the  eclat  of  your  mifunderftandings 
and  of  your  quarrel.     Now,  I  fay,  that  it  is  more  efpeci- 

ally, 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  $1£ 

ally  on  this  point  that  you  are  grofsly  deceived  ;  and,  after 
having  fhewn  to  you  the  injullice  of  our  hatreds,  it  is  my 
duty  now  to  prove  to  you  the  falfity  of  our  reconciliations. 

Part  II.  There  is  not  a  precept  in  the  law  which  leaves 
lefs  room  for  doubt  or  lor  miftake,  than  that  which  obli- 
ges us  to  love  our  brethren  ;  and,  neverthelefs,  there  is  none 
upon  which  more  illufions  and  falfe  maxims  are  founded. 
In  efTecl:,  there  is  not  almoft  a  perfon  who  doth  not  fay<, 
that  he  hath  heartily  forgiven  his  brother,  and  that  his  con- 
science is  perfectly  tranquil  on  that  head  ;  and,  neverthe- 
lefs, nothing  is  more  rare  than  fincere  forgivenefs,  and 
there  is  a  few  inftances  of  a  reconcilement  which  changes 
the  heart,  and  which  is  not  merely  a  falfe  appearance  of 
renewed  amity  ;  whether  it  be  confidered  in  its  principle, 
or  whether  the  proceedings  and  confequences  of  it  be  ex- 
amined. 

I  fay,  in  its  principle.;  for,  my  brethren,  in  order  that 
a  reconciliation  be  fincere  and  real,  it  is  neceffary  that  it 
take  its  fource  in  charity,  and  in  a  Chriftian  love  of  our 
brother.  Now,  human  motives  engrols,  in  general,  a 
work  which  can  be  the  work  of  grace  alone.  A  reconci- 
liation takes  place,  in  order  not  to  perfift  againft  the  preff- 
ing  entreaties  of  friends  ;  in  order  to  avoid  a  certain  dif- 
agreeable  eclat,  which  would  neceflarily  follow  an  open 
hoftility,  and  which  might  revert  upon  ourfelves,  in  or- 
der not  to  exclude  ourfelves  from  certain  focieties,  from 
which  we  would  be  under  the  neceffity  of  banifhing  our- 
felves were  we  obftinately  to  perfift  in  being  irreconr:iea- 
ble  to  our  brother.  A  reconciliation  takes  place  through 
deference  to  the  great,  who  exact  of  us  that  compliance, 
in  order  to  acquire  a  reputation  for  moderation  and  great- 
nefs  of  foul ;  in  order  to  avoid  giving  tranfaclions  to  the 

public 


416  SERMON     XIV. 

public  which  would  not  correfpond  with  that  idea  which 
we  would  wifh  it  to  have  of  us  ;  in  order,  at  once,  to  cut 
fhort  the  continual  complaints  and  the  infulting  difcourfes 
of  an  enemy,  who  knows  us  perhaps  only  too  well,  and 
who  has  once  been  too  deep  in  our  confidence,  not  to  merit 
fome  caution  and  deference  on  our  part,  and  that  by  a  re- 
conciliation, we  mould  endeavour  to  filence  him.  What 
more  mail  I  fay  ?  We  are  reconciled  perhaps  like  Saul,  in 
order  more  fecurely  to  ruin  our  enemy,  and  to  lull  his  vigi- 
lance and  precautions. 

Such  are,  in  general,  the  motives  of  thofe  reconciliations 
which  every  day  take  place  in  the  world.  And  what  I  fay 
here  is  fo  true,  that  finners  who  fhew  no  fign  of  piety  on 
any  other  occafion,  are  however  reconciled  to  their  bre- 
thren in  daily  inftances  ;  and  they  who  cannot  prevail 
over  themfelves  in  the  eafieft  duties  of  the  Chriftian  life, 
appear  as  heroes  in  the  accomplifhment  of  this  one,  which, 
of  all  others,  is  the  moft  difficult.  Ah  !  it  is  becaufe  they 
are  heroes  of  vanity  and  not  of  charity  :  it  is,  that  they 
leave  that  part  of  the  reconciliation  which  alone  is  heroical 
and  arduous  in  the  fight  of  God,  viz.  an  oblivion  upon 
the  paft  injury,  and  a  total  revolution  of  our  heart  towards 
our  brother  ;  and  they  retain  of  it  only  that  part  which  is 
glorious  in  the  fight  of  men,  viz.  an  appearance  of  mode- 
ration, and  a  promptitude  towards  amity,  which  the  world 
itfelf  praifes  and  admires. 

But,  if  the  greateft  part  of  reconciliations  turn  out  to 
be  falfe  when  their  motives  are  examined,  they  are  not  lefs 
fo,  if  we  confider  them  in  their  proceedings.  Yes,  my 
brethren,  what  meafures  and  negociations  !  What  forma- 
lities and  folicitudes  in  concluding  them  !  What  attentions, 
to  bellow,  and  cautions  to  obferve  !  What  intereftto  con- 
ciliate, 


FORGIVENESS  OF   INJURIES  417 

ciliatc,  obftacles  to  remove,  and  flepsto  accomplifh  !  Thus 
your  reconciliation  is  not  the  work  of  charity,  but  of  the 
wifdom  and  fkill  of  your  friends ;  it  is  a  worldly  affair ;  it 
is  not  a  religious  flep  ;  it  is  a  treaty  happily  concluded  ;  it 
is  not  a  duty  of  faith  fulfilled  ;  it  is  the  work  of  man,  but 
it  is  not  the  deed  of  God  :  in  a  word,  it  is  a  peace  which 
comes  from  the  earth,  it  is  not  the  peace  of  Heaven. 

For,  candidly,  have  men  been  able,  through  their  ar- 
rangements and  the  ingenuity  of  their  meafures  in  recon- 
ciling you  with  your  brother,  to  revive  that  charity  which 
was  extinguifhed  in  your  heart  ?  Have  they  been  able  to 
reflore  that  treafure  to  you  which  you  had  loft  ?  They  have 
fucceeded,  indeed,  in  terminating  the  fcandal  of  declared 
enmity,  and  in  eflablifhing  between  you  and  your  brother 
the  outward  duties  of  fociety  ;  but  they  have  not  changed 
your  heart,  which  God  alone  can  do  ;  they  have  not  ex- 
tinguifhed that  hatred,  which  grace  alone  can  extinguifh. 
You  are  theretore  reconciled,  but  you  flill  love  not  your 
brother;  and,  inerTecl:,  if  you  fincereiy  loved  him,  would 
fo  many  mediators  have  been  required  to  reconcile  you  ? 
Love  is  its  own  mediator  and  interpreter.  Charity  is  that 
brief  word,  which  would  have  faved  to  your  friends  all 
thofe  endlefs  toils  which  they  have  been  obliged  to  emplov 
in  order  to  reclaim  you  ;  it  is  not  fo  meafured  ;  it  frankly 
coniefTes  what  it  fincereiy  feels.  Now,  before  giving  way, 
you  have  infilled  upon  a  thoufand  conditions  ;  you  have 
difputed  every  flep ;  you  have  been  refolute  in  not  going 
beyond  a  certain  point ;  you  have  exacled  that  your  bro- 
ther fhould  make  the  firfl  advances  towards  meeting  you. 
Charity  knows  nothing  of  all  the'e  rules  ;  it  hath  only 
one,  and  that  is,  oblivion  upon  the  injury  and  to  love  our 
brother  as  onrfelf. 

Vol.  I.  E  3  I  grant 


418  SERMON     XIV. 

I  grant  that  certain  prudential  meafures  are  to  be  obfer- 
ved,  and  that  too  hafty  or  ill-timed  advantages  might  often 
be  not  only  unfuccefsful,  but  even  the  means  of  hardening 
your  brother  ftill  more  againft  you.  But  I  fay  that  charity 
ought  to  regulate  thefe  meafures,  and  not  vanity  ;  I  fay, 
and  I  repeat  it,  that  all  thefe  reconciliations  which  are  with 
fuch  difficulty  concluded,  where  both  parties  are  refolute 
in  yielding  only  to  a  certain  point,  and  even  that  with  pre- 
cautions fo  ftricl;  and  fo  precife  ;  where  fo  many  expedi- 
ents and  fo  much  myftery  are  neceffary,  are  the  fruits  of 
flefhly  prudence  ;  they  correcl:  the  manners,  but  they  affecl: 
not  the  heart ;  they  bring  the  perfons,  but  not  the  affec- 
tions nearer ;  they  re-eftablifh  civilities,  but  leave  the 
fame  fentiments  ;  in  a  word,  they  terminate  the  fcandal  of 
hatred,  but  not  the  fin.  Thus  Jefus  Chrift  plainly  com- 
mands us  to  go  our  way  and  be  reconciled  to  our  brother. 
He  fays  not  to  us,  do  not  go  too  far,  left  your  brother  take 
advantage  of  it ;  be  firft  convinced  that  he  will  meet  you 
halfway  ;  feek  not  after  him,  left  he  confider  your  proceed- 
ing as  an  apology  for  his  complaints,  as  a  tacit  acknowledg- 
ment of  your  blame,  and  a  fentence  pronounced  againft 
yourfelf.  Jefus  Chrift  plainly  tells  us  :  Go  thy  way  and 
be  reconciled  to  thy  brother.  He  defires  that  the  reconci- 
liation take  place  through  charity  alone  ;  he  fuppofes,  that 
in  order  to  love  our  brother,  we  have  no  occafion  for  me- 
diators, and  that  ourheart  mould  be  fully  capable  ot  every 
thing  required  without  any  foreign  interference. 

Such  are  the  fteps  of  reconciliations ;  thence,  the  mo- 
tives being  almoft  always  human,  the  proceedings  faulty, 
their  confequences  can  be  only  vain  and  of  no  effe£t.  I 
fay  the  confequences ;  for,  my  brethren,  in  what  do  the 
far  greater  part  of  thofe    reconciliations  which  every  day 

take 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  419 

take  place  in  the  world,  terminate  ?  What  is  the  fruit  of 
them  ?  What  is  it,  which  is  commonly  called  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  our  enemy  ?  I  mail  explain  it  to  you. 

You  fay,  in  the  firft  place,  that  you  are  reconciled  to 
your  brother,  and  that  you  have  heartily  forgiven  him  ; 
but,  that  you  have  taken  your  refolution  to  fee  him  no 
more,  and  from  henceforth  to  have  no  father  intercourfe 
with  him  :  And  upon  this  footing,  you  live  tranquil  ;  you 
believe  that  nothing  more  is  prefcribed  by  the  gofpel,  and 
that  a  confeffor  hath  no  title  to  demand  more.  Now  I  de- 
clare that  you  have  not  forgiven  your  brother,  and  that 
you  are  ftill,  with  refpect  to  him,  in  hatred,  in  death,  and 
in  fin. 

For  I  demand  of  you  :  do  we  dread  the  fight  of  thofe  we 
love  ?  And,  if  your  enemy  be  now  your  brother,  what 
can  there  be  fo  hateful  and  fo  difagreeable  to  you  in  his 
prefence  ?  You  fay  that  you  have  forgiven,  and  that  you 
love  him  ;  but,  in  order  to  avoid  all  accidents,  and  that  his 
prefence  may  not  aroufe  vexatious  ideas,  you  find  it  more 
proper  to  exclude  yourfelf  from  it.  But  what  is  that  kind 
of  love  which  the  fole  prefence  of  the  beloved  object,  ir- 
ritates againft  it,  and  inflames  with  hatred  and  wrath  ? 
You  love  him  !  That  is  to  fay,  that  perhaps  you  would  not 
wifh  to  injure,  or  to  deftroy  him.  But  that  is  not  enough  : 
religion  commands  you  likewife  to  love  him  :  for  honour, 
indolence,  moderation,  fear,  and  want  of  opportunity,  are 
fufficient  inducements  to  prevent  you  from  injuring  him; 
but  you  mull:  be  Chriftian  to  love  him  ;  and  that  is  pre- 
cifely  what  you  are  not  willing  to  be. 

And,  candidly,  would  you  that  God  loved  you,  upon 
the  condition  that  he  fhould  never  fee  you  ?  Would  you 

be 


4*0 


SERMON     XIV. 


be  fatisfied  with  his  goodnefs,  and  with  his  mercy,  were 
he  forever  to  banifh  you  from  his  prcfence  ?  For  you  well 
know  that  he  will  treat  you,  as  you  fhall  have  treated  your 
brother.  Would  you  think  yourfelf  much  in  favour  with 
the  prince,  were  he  to  forbid  you  ever  to  prefent  yourfelf 
before  him  ?  You  conflantly  fay,  that  a  man  is  in  difgrace, 
when  he  is  no  longer  permitted  to  appear  before  the  mafter  ; 
and  you  pretend  to  perfuade  us  that  you  love  your  brother, 
and  that  no  rancour  remains  in  your  heart  againfl  him, 
while  his  fole  prefence  difpleafes  and  irritates  you. 

And  what  Iefs  equivocal  mark  can  be  given,  of  animo- 
fity  againfl  your  brother,  than  that  of  being  unable  to  en- 
dure his  prefence  ?  It  is  the  very  extreme  of  hatred  and  of 
rancour.  For  many  fettled  hatreds  exifl,  which  yet  are 
kept  under  a  kind  of  check  ;  are,  as  far  as  poflible,  con- 
cealed, and  even  borrow  the  outward  femblance  of  friend- 
fhip  and  of  decency ;  and  though  unable  to  reconcile  the 
heart  to  duty,  yet  have  fufficient  command  over  them- 
felves,  to  preferve  appearances  to  the  world.  But  your 
hatred  is  beyond  all  reftraint ;  it  knows  neither  prudence, 
caution,  nor  decency  ;  and  you  pretend  to  perfuade  us 
that  it  is  now  no  more  !  You  Hill  fhew  the  moft  violent 
proofs  of  animofity,  and  even  thefe  you  would  have  us  to 
confider  as  the  indubitable  fjgns  of  a  Chriflian  and  fincere 
love. 

But,  befides,  are  Chriflians  made  to  live  eftranged,  and 
unconnected  with  each  other  ?  Chriflians  !  The  members 
oi  one  body,  the  children  of  the  fame  Father,  the  difci- 
ples  of  the  fame  Mafter,  the  inheritors  of  the  fame  king- 
dom, the  flones  of  the  fame  building,  the  particles  of  the 
fame  mafs  !  Chriflians  !  The  participation  of  one  fame 
fpirit,    of  one  fame  redemption,  of  one  fame  righteouf- 

nefs ! 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  421 

nefs !  Chriftians !  Sprung  from  one  bofom,  regenerated  in 
the  fame  water,  incorporated  in  the  fame  church,  redeem- 
ed by  one  ranfom,  are  they  made  to  fly  each  other,  to  make 
a  punifhment  of  feeing  each  other,  and  to  be  unable  to 
endure  each  other  ?  All  religion  binds,  unites  us  toge- 
ther;  the  facraments  in  which  we  join,  the  public  prayers 
and  thankfgivings  which  we  fing,  the  ceremonies  of  that 
worfhip  in  which  we  pride  ourfelves,  the  afTembly  of  be- 
lievers at  which  we  aflifl; ;  all  thefe  externals  are  only  fym- 
bols  of  that  union  which  ties  us  together.  All  religion  it- 
felf,  is  but  one  holy  fociety,  a  divine  communication  ot 
prayers,  of  facrifices,  of  works  and  of  well-doings.  Eve- 
ry thing  connects  and  unites  us,  every  thing  tends  to 
make  of  our  brethren  and  of  us,  only  one  family,  one  body, 
one  heart,  and  one  foul ;  and  you  believe  that  you  love 
your  brother,  and  that  you  preferve,  with  refpeft  to  him, 
all  the  moll:  facred  ties  ot  religion,  while  you  break  through 
even  thofe  of  fociety,  and  that  you  cannot  endure  even 
his  prefence  ? 

I  fay  much  more  :  How  {hall  you  indulge  the  fame 
hope  with  him  ?  For,  by  that  common  hope,  you  are 
eternally  to  live  with  him,  to  make  his  happinefs  your  own, 
to  be  happy  with  him,  to  be  reunited  with  him  in  the  bo- 
fom  of  God,  and  with  him  to  fing  the  eternal  praifes  of 
grace.  Ah  1  How  could  the  hope  of  being  for  ever  united 
with  him  be  the  fweeteft  confolation  of  your  life,  if  it  ap- 
pear fo  defirable  to  live  in  feparation  from  him,  and  if  you 
find  even  his  prefence  a  punifhment  ?  Renounce  then  the 
promifes  and  all  the  hopes  of  faith  ;  feparate  yourfelf  as  an 
accurfed  from  the  communion  of  believers;  interdi£l  to 
yourfelf  the  altar  and  the  awful  myfteries  ;  banifli  yourfelf 
from  the  aflembly  of  the  -holy  ;  no  longer  come  there  to 
offer  up  your  gifts  and  your  prayers,  fince  all  thefe  religi- 
ous 


422  SERMON      XIV. 

ous  duties,  fuppofing  you  in  union  with  your  brother,  be* 
come  derifions,  if  you  be  not  fo,  depofe  againft  you  in  the 
face  of  the  altars,  and  proclaim  to  you  to  quit  the  holy 
affembly  as  a  publican  and  a  finner. 

Perhaps  alarmed  at  thefe  holy  truths,  you  will  finally 
tell  us,  that  you  will  fo  far  conquer  yourfelf  as  to  fee  your 
brother,  and  to  live  on  good  terms  with  him  ;  that  you 
will  not  be  wanting  in  civilities ;  but  that,  for  the  reft, 
you  know  where  to  flop,  and  that  he  need  not  reckon 
much  upon  your  friendfhip. 

You  will  not  be  wanting  in  civilities  !  And  that,  my 
dear  hearer,  you  believe  is  to  pardon  and  to  be  reconciled 
to  your  brother,  and  to  love  him  as  yourfelf  ?  But  that 
charity  which  the  gofpel  commands  is  in  the  heart ;  it  is 
not  a  fimple  decorum,  a  vain  outude,  an  ufelefs  ceremo- 
ny ;  it  is  real  feeling,  and  an  a&ive  love ;  it  is  a  fincere 
tendernefs,  ever  ready  to  manifeft  itfelf  in  actions.  You 
love  as  a  Jew  and  as  a  Pharifee,  but  you  love  not  as  a 
Chriftian  and  as  a  dilciple  of  Jefus  Chrift.  The  law  of 
charity  is  the  law  of  the  heart ;  it  regulates  the  feelings, 
changes  the  inclinations,  and  pours  the  oil  of  peace  and  ot 
lenity  over  the  wounds  ot  an  angry  and  wounded  will ; 
and  you  turn  it  into  a  law  wholly  external,  a  pharifaical 
and  fuperncial  law,  which  regulates  only  the  outfide, 
which  fettles  only  the  manners,  and  is  fulfilled  by  vain 
appearances. 

But  you  are  not  commanded  that  you  mail  merely  re- 
frain from  wounding  the  rules  of  courtefy,  and  that  you 
fhall  pay  to  your  brother  all  thofe  duties  which  fociety 
mutually  impofes  ;  it  is  the  world  which  prefcribes  this 
law  ;  thefe  are  its  rules  and  cuftoms.    But  Jefus  Chrift 

commands 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  423 

commands  you  to  love  him ;  and,  while  your  heart  is  ef- 
tranged  from  him,  it  is  of  little  importance  that  you  keep 
up  the  vain  externals  of  courtefy.  You  refufe  to  religion 
the  eflential  part ;  and  the  only  difference  betwixt  you  and 
thofe  finners  who  perfift  in  not  feeing  their  brethren  is, 
that  you  know  how  to  conftrain  yourfelf  for  the  world, 
and  you  know  not  how  to  thwart  yourfelf  for  falvation. 

And  furely,  my  brethren,  if  men  were  united  together 
by  the  fole  ties  of  fociety,  they  no  doubt  would  discharge 
their  duty,  by  keeping  up  all  the  externals  of  politenefs, 
and  by  maintaining  that  mutual  commerce  of  cares,  atten- 
tions, and  courtefies,  which  conftitute,  as  it  were,  the 
whole  harmony  of  the  body  politic.  But  we  are  united 
to  gether  by  the  facred  and  clofe  ties  of  faith,  of  hope,  of 
charity,  and  of  religion.  In  the  midft  of  the  world  we 
form  a  fociety  wholly  internal  and  holy,  of  which  charity 
is  the  invifible  bond,  and  altogether  diftincl:  from  that  civil 
fociety  which  legiflators  have  eflablifhed.  Confequently, 
by  fulfilling  with  regard  to  your  brethren  the  external  cour- 
tefies, you  fatisfy  the  claims  which  civil  fociety  hath  upon 
you,  but  you  do  not  fulfil  thofe  of  religion  ;  you  difturb 
not  the  political  order,  but  you  overturn  the  order  of  chari- 
ty ;  you  are  a  peaceable  citizen,  but  you  are  not  a  citizen 
of  heaven  ;  you  are  a  man  of  the  age,  but  you  are  not  a  man 
of  the  agetocome  ;  the  world  may  acquit  you,  and  demand 
no  more,  but  what  you  do  is  a  blank  in  the  fight  of  God,  be- 
caufe  you  are  not  in  charity;  and  your  condemnation  is 
certain.  Come  and  tell  us  after  this,  that  you  will  not  be 
wanting  in  decorum,  and  that  religion  exacf  s  no  more  of 
us.  It  exacls  then  only  diflimulations,  outfides,  and  vain 
appearances  ?  It  exacls  then  nothing  true,  nothing  real, 
nothing  which  changes  the  heart  ?  And  the  great  precept 
of  charity,  which   alone  gives  reality    to  all  our    works, 

would 


424 


SERMON    XIV; 


would  no  longer  then  be  but  a  falfe  pretence  and  a  vain 
hypocrify  ? 

And  trufl  not  folely  to  us  on  this  point ;  confult  the  pub- 
lic itfelf.  See  if,  in  fpite  ot  all  the  appearances  which 
you  flill  keep  up  with  your  brother,  it  be  not  an  eftablilhed 
opinion  in  the  world  that  you  love  him  not :  and  if  the 
world  do  not  aft  in  confequence  of  that  perfuafion.  See 
if  your  creatures,  if  all  who  approach  and  who  are  attached 
to  you,  donotafFe£l  to  keep  at  a  diftance  from  your  brother. 
See  if  all  thofe  who  hate  him,  or  who  are  in  interefts  oppofite 
to  his,  do  not  court  your  friendlhip  and  lorm  clofer  ties 
with  you,  and  if  all  thofe  who  are  inimical  to  your  brother 
do  not  profefs  themfelves  your  friends.  See  if  thofe  who 
have  favours  to  expeft  from  you  do  not  begin  by  forfaking 
him,  and  it  they  do  not  think  that  in  fo  doing  they  are  pay- 
ing court  to  you.  You  fee  that  the  world  knows  you  bet- 
ter than  you  know  yourfelf ;  that  it  is  not  miftaken  in  your 
real  fentiments  ;  and  that,  in  fpite  of  thefe  vain  fhews  to- 
wards your  brother,  you  are  actually  in  hatred  and  in  death, 
and  that  in  this  refpett  the  world  itfelf  is  of  our  opinion  ; 
that  world,  which,  on  every  other  occafion,  we  have  con- 
ilantly  to  combat. 

Behold  in  what  terminate  the  greateft  part  of  the  recon- 
ciliations which  are  every  day  made  in  the  world.  They 
once  more  fee  each  other,  but  they  are  not  reunited  ;  they 
promife  a  mutual  friendlhip,  but  it  is  never  given  ;  their 
perfons  meet,  but  their  hearts  are  always  eftranged  ;  and 
I  had  reafon  to  fay,  that  the  hatreds  are  unchangeable,  and 
that  almoft  all  the  reconciliations  are  mere  pretences; 
that  the  injury  may  be  forgiven,  but  that  the  offender  is 
never  loved ;  that  they  may  ceafe  to  treat  their  brother  as 
an  enemy,  but  that  they  never  regard  him  as  a  brother. 

And, 


FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  "425 

And,  behold  what  takes  place  every  day  before  our  eyes. 
In  the  world  are  to  be  feen  public  characters,  families  of 
illuflrious  names,  who  Hill  preferve  with  each  other  certain 
meafures  of  decency,    which  they   cannot  indeed   break 
through  without  fcandal,  yet,  neverthelefs,  live  in  different 
irtterefts,  in  public  and    avowed   fentiments  of  envy,  of 
jealoufy,  and  of  mutual  animofity  ;  thwart  and  do  every 
thing  in  their  power  to  ruin  each  other,  view  each  other 
with  the  moft  jealous  eyes,  and  make  air  their  creatures 
partifans  in  their  refentments  and  averfions  ;  divide  the 
world,  the  court,  and  the  city  ;  intereft  the  public  in  their 
quarrel,  and  cflablilh  in  the  world  the  opinion  and  the  fcan- 
dal that  they  hate  each  other  ;  that  they  would  mutually 
deftroy  each  other ;  that  they  ftill,  it  is  true  keep  up  ap- 
pearances ;  but  that,  at   bottom,  their  interefts  and  affec- 
tions are  ever  eftranged.     Yet,  notwithstanding  all  this, 
each  party  lives  in  a  reputation  of  piety,  and  of  the  prac- 
tice of  good  works  ;  they  have  diftinguimed  and  highly 
efteemed  confeffors  ;  in  mutually  difcharging  to  each  other 
certain  duties,  yet  living  otherwife  in  a  public  and  avowed 
hoftility,  they  irequent  the  facraments,  they  are  continually 
in  the  intercourse  of  holy  things,  they  coolly  approach  the 
altar,  they  frequently  and  without  fcruple  prefent  them- 
felves  at  the  penitential  tribunal,  where,  far  from  confef- 
fing  their  hatred  before  the  Lord,  and  weeping  over  the 
fcandal  with  which  it  affli&s  the  people,  they   make  frefh 
complaints  againft  their  enemy  ;  they  accufe  him,  in  place 
of  accufing  themfelves ;  they  make  a  boaft  of  the  vain  ex- 
ternal duties  which  they  pay  to  him,  and  allcdge  them  as 
marks  of  the  heart  not  being  rancorous  :  What  mall  I  fay  ? 
And  the   very   minifters   of  penitence,  who   fliould   have 
been  the  judges  of  our  hatred,  frequently  become  its  apolo- 
gias, adopt  a  party  with  the  public,  enter  into  all  the  ani- 
mofity and  prejudices  of  their  penitents,  proclaim  the  juf- 
Vql.  I.  F  3  tice 


426  SERMON     XIV. 

tice  of  their  quarrel,  and  are  the  caufe  that  the  only  reme- 
dy deflined  to  ftrike  at  the  root  of  the  evil,  anfwers  no 
other  purpofe  than  that  of  decorating  it  with  the  appear- 
ances of  godlinefs,  and  of  rendering  it  more  incurable. 

Great  God  !  Thou  alone  canft  clofe  the  wounds  which  a 
proud  fenfibility  hath  made  in  my  heart,  by  nourifhing  un- 
reafonable  and  iniquitous  hatreds  which  have  corrupted  it 
in  thy  fight.  Enable  me  to  forget  fleeting  and  momentary 
injuries,  in  order  that  thou  may  forget  the  crimes  of  my 
whole  lite.  Is  it  lor  me,  O  my  God  !  to  be  fo  feeling  and 
fo  inexorable  to  the  flighteft  infults,  I  who  have  fuch  ne- 
ceflity  for  thy  mercy  and  indulgence  ?  Are  the  injuries  of 
which  I  complain  to  be  compared  with  thofe  with  which  I 
have  a  thoufand  times  dishonoured  thy  fupreme  grandeur  ? 
Muft  the  worm  of  the  earth  be  irritated  and  inflamed  at  the 
fmalleft  marks  of  dildain,  while  thy  fovereign  majefty  hath 
fo  long,  and  with  fo  much  goodnefs,  endured  his  rebellions 
and  his  offences  ? 

Who  am  I,  to  be  fo  keen  upon  the  interefls  of  my  glory ; 
I  who  dare  not  in  thy  prelence  caft  mine  eyes  upon  my 
fecret  ignominy  ;  I  who  would  deferve  to  be  the  reproach 
of  men,  and  the  outcaft  of  my  people;  I  who  have  nothing 
praife-worthy,  according  even  to  the  world,  but  the  good 
fortune  of  having  concealed  from  it  my  infamies  and  my 
weakneffes  ;  I  to  whom  the  moft  biting  reproaches  would 
itill  be  too  gentle,  and  would  treat  me  with  too  much  in- 
dulgence ;  I,  in  a  word,  who  have  no  falvation  now  to 
hope,  if  thou  forget  not  thine  own  glory,  which  I  have  fo 
piten  infulted  ? 

But  no,  great  God  !  thy  glory  is  in  pardoning  the  finner, 
and  mine  fhall  be  in  forgiving  my  brother.     Accept,  O 

Lord, 


TORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  427 

Lord,  this  facrifice  which  I  make  to  thee  of  my  refent- 
ments.  Eftimate  not  its  value  by  the  puerility  and  the 
flightnefs  of  the  injuries  which  I  forget,  but  by  that  pride 
which  had  magnified  them,  and  had  rendered  me  fo  feeling 
to  them.  And,  feeing  thou  haft  promifed  to  forgive  us 
our  trefpafles  whenever  we  {hall  have  forgiven  the  trefpaf- 
fes  of  our  brethren,  fulfil,  O  Lord,  thy  promifes.  U  is 
in  this  hope  that  I  prefume  to  reckon  upon  thine  eternal 
mercies. 


SERMON 


SERMON  XV. 

•     THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER. 


Luke  vii.  37. 

And  behold  a  woman  in  the  city,  which  was  afinner,  when 

Jhe  knew  that  Jefus  fat  at  meat  in  the  Phari/ee's  hoiife, 

brought  an  alabajler -box  oj  ointment,  andjlood  at  his 

feet  behind  him  weeping,  and  began  to  wafh  hisjeet  with 

tears,  and  did  wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and 

kiffed  his  feet,  and  anointed  them  with  the  vintmext. 

JL  ROM  fuch  abundant  tears,  fo  fincere  a  confufion,  and 
a  proceeding  fo  humiliating  and  uncommon,  it  may  eafily 
be  comprehended  how  great  muft  once  have  been  the  influ- 
ence of  the  paflions  over  the  heart  of  this  finner,  and  what 
grace  now  operateth  within  her.  Palefline  had  long  be- 
held her  as  the  fhame  and  the  reproach  of  the  city ;  the 
Pharifee's  houfehold  views  her  to-day  as  the  glory  of  grace, 
and  a  model  of  penitence :  What  a  change,  and  what  a 
fpe&acle ! 

This  foul,  fettered,  but  a  moment  ago,  with  the  moft 
fhameful  and  the  moft  indiffoluble  chains,  finds  nothing 
now  capable  of  flopping  her ;  and,  without  hefitation,  fhe 
flies  to  fee k,  at  the  feet  of  Jefus  Chrift,  hei  falvation  and 
deliverance :  this  foul  hitherto  plunged  in  the  fenfes,  and 

living 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  429 

living  totally  for  voluptuoufnefs,  in  a  moment  facrifices 
their  livelieft  charms,  and  their  deareft  ties  :  this  foul,  lafi- 
ly,  impatient  till  then  of  every  yoke,  and  whofe  heart  had 
never  acknowledged  other  rule  than  the  caprice  of  its  in- 
clinations, commences  her  penitence  by  the  moft  humili- 
ating proceedings,  and  the  moft  melancholy  lubje&ions. 
How  admirable,  O  my  God  1  are  the  works  of  thy  grace  ! 
And  how  near  to  its  cure  is  the  moft  hopelefs  wretchednefs, 
when  once  it  becomes  the  obje£r.  of  thine  infinite  mercies  \ 
and  how  rapid  and  fhortened  are  the  ways  by  which  thou 
condu£teft  thy  chofen  ! 

But  whence  comes  it,  my  brethren,  that  fuch  grand  ex- 
amples make  fo  trifling  an  impeflion  upon  us  ?  From  two 
prejudices,  apparently  the  moft  oppofite  to  each  other,  yet, 
neverthelefs,  which  proceed  from  the  fame  principle,  and 
lead  to  the  fame  error. 

The  firft  is,  that  we  figure  to  ourfelves  that  converfion. 
of  the  heart  required  by  God  as  merely  a  cefTation  of  guilt, 
the  abftaining  from  certain  exceflive  irregularities,  which 
even  decency  itfelf  holds  out  as  improper.  And  as  we  are 
at  laft  brought  to  that,  either  by  age,  new  fituations,  or 
even  our  own  inclinations  which  time  alone  has  changed, 
we  never  think  of  going  farther;  we  believe  that  all  is  com- 
pleted, and  we  liften  to  the  hiftory  of  the  moft  affecting 
converfions,  held  out  to  us  by  the  church,  as  to  leffons, 
which  no  longer,  in  any  degree,  regard  us. 

The  fecond  goes  to  another  extreme  :  we  reprefent  Chrif- 
tian  penitence  to  ourfelves,  as  a  horrible  fuuation,  and  the 
defpair  of  human  weaknefs ;  a  ftate  without  comfort  or 
confolation,  and  attended  by  a  thoufand  duties,  every  one 
more  difgufting  than  another   to  the  heart ;  and  rcpulfcd, 

through 


430  SERMON     XV. 

through  the  error  of  that  gloomy  image,  the  example  of  a 
change  find  us  little  difpofed  to  be  affe&ed,  becaufe  they 
always  find  us  difcouraged. 

Now,  the  converfion  of  our  Tinner  confutes  thefe  two 
prejudices  fo  dangerous  for  falvation.  lftiy,  Her  peni- 
tence not  only  terminates  her  errors,  it  likewife  expiates 
and  makes  reparation  for  them.  2dly,  Her  penitence  be- 
gins, it  is  true,  her  tears  and  her  forrow  ;  but  it  is  likewife 
the  commencement  to  her  of  new  pleafures.  Whatever 
flie  had  defpoiled  Jefus  Chrifl  of  in  her  errors,  fhe  reftores 
to  him  in  her  penitence :  behold  their  reparation !  but 
with  Jefus  Chrifl:  flie  finds,  in  her  penitence,  that  peace 
and  thofe  comforts  which  fhe  had  never  experienced  in  her 
errors  :  behold  their  confolations  !  The  reparations,  and 
the  confolations  of  her  penitence,  are  the  whole  hiflory  of 
her  converfion,  and  the  fubjecl;  of  this  difcourfe. 

Part  I.  The  office  of  penitence,  fays  St.  Auguflin, 
is  that  of  eftablifhing  order  wherever  fin  hath  introduced 
corruption.  It  is  falfe,  if  it  be  not  univerfal ;  for  order 
folely  refults  from  a  perfect  fubordination  of  all  defires  and 
emotions  which  fpring  up  in  our  hearts  ;  every  thing  mufl 
be  in  its  place,  in  order  that  that  divine  harmony,  which 
fin  had  diflurbed,  may  be  reftored  ;  and,  while  the  fmal- 
left  particular  there  remains  deranged,  in  vain  do  you  la- 
bour to  repair  the  reft  ;  you  only  rear  up  an  edifice,  which, 
being  improperly  arranged,  is  continually  giving  way  in 
fome  of  its  parts,  and  confufion  and  diforder  prevail  through 
the  whole. 

Now,  behold  the  important  inftruclion  held  out  to  us  in 
the  converfion  of  this  finner  !  Her  fin  comprifed  feveral 
diforders  :  j///y,  An  iniquitous  ufe  of  her  heart,  which 

had 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  43 1 

had  never  been  taken  up  but  with  creatures  :  ai/y,  A  crimi- 
nal abufe  of  all  natural  gitts,  which  (lie  had  made  the  inftru- 
ments  of  her  paffions :  3<//y,  A  ftiameful  abafemetit  of  her 
fenfes,  which  fhe  had  always  made  to  contribute  to  her  vo- 
luptuoufnefs  and  ignominy  :  Lajily,  An  univcrfal  fcandal 
in  the  notoriety  of  her  errors.  Her  penitence  makes  repa- 
ration for  all  thefe  diforders  :  all,  consequently  are.forgiv- 
en  ;   for  nothing  is  negle&ed  in  the  repentance. 

I  fay,  ijlly,  An  iniquitous  ufe  of  her  heart.  Yes,  my 
brethren,  every  love,  which  has  for  its  obje£l  only  thfc 
creature,  degrades  our  heart:  it  is  a  diforder,  to  love  ior 
itfelf  that  which  can  neither  be  our  happinefs  nor  our  per- 
fection, nor,  confequently  our  eafe.  For,  to  love,  is  to 
feek  our  felicity  in  that  which  we  love ;  it  is  the  hope  of 
finding  in  the  objecl:  beloved,  whatever  is  wanting  to  our 
heart ;  it  is  the  calling  it  in  aid  againft  that. (hocking  void 
which  we  feel  within  ourfelves,  in  the  confidence  that  they 
(hall  be  able  to  fill  it :  to  love,  is  to  look  upon  the  obje£l 
beloved  as  our  refource  againft  all  our  wants,  the  cure  of 
all  our  evils,  and  the  author  of  all  our  good.  Now,  as  it 
is  in  God  alone  that  we  can  find  all  thefe  advantages,  it  is 
a  diforder,  and  a  debafement  of  the  heart,  to  feek  for  them 
in  a  vile  creature. 

And,  at  bottom,  we  feel  fenfibly  ourfelves  the  injuftice  ot 
that  love  :  however  paffionate  it  be,  we  quickly  difcoverin 
the  creatures  which  infpire  it,  weakneffefs  and  defects 
which  render  them  unworthy  of  it  :  we  foon  find  them  out 
to  be  unjuft ,  fanciful,  falfe,  vain,  and  inconftant  :  the  deeper 
we  examine  them,  the  more  we  fay  to  ourfelves,  that  put 
heart  has  been  deceived,  and  that  this  is  not  the  object 
which  it  fought.  Our  reafon  inwardly  bluihes  at  the 
weaknefe   of  our   pafhon ;  we  no  longer   fnbmit  to  our 

chains, 


432  SERMON     XV. 

chains,  but  with  pain ;  our  pafTion  becomes  our  burden 
and  our  punifhment.  But  punifhed,  without  being  unde- 
ceived in  our  error,  we  fee,  in  a  change,  a  remedy  for 
our  miftake :  we  wander  from  objeft  to  objecT:,  and  if 
fome  one  at  laft  chance  to  fix  us,  it  is  not  that  we  are  fatis- 
fied  with  our  choice,  it  is  that  we  are  tired  of  our  incon- 
ftancy. 

Our  (inner  had  wandered  in  thefe  ways :  iniquitous 
loves  had  been  the  caufe  of  all  her  misfortunes,  and  of  all 
her  crimes  ;  and,  born  to  love  God  alone,  he  alone  it  was 
whom  fhe  had  never  loved.  But  fcarcely  hath  fhe  known 
him,  fays  the  gofpel,  when,  blufhing  at  the  meannefs  of 
her  former  paflions,  fhe  no  longer  acknowledges,  but  him 
alone,  to  be  worthy  of  her  heart  :  all  in  the  creature  ap- 
pears to  her  empty,  falfe  and  difgufting  :  far  from  finding 
thofe  charms,  from  which  her  heart  had  formerly  with 
fuch  difficulty  defended  itfelf,  fhe  no  longer  fees  in  them, 
but  their  frivolity,  their  danger,  and  their  vanity.  The 
Lord  alone,  in  her  fight,  appears  good,  real,  faithful,  con- 
stant to  his  promifes,  magnificent  in  his  gifts,  true  in  his 
afFeclion,  indulgent  even  in  his  anger,  alone  fufficiently 
great  to  fill  the  whole  immenfity  of  our  heart ;  alone  fuffi- 
ciently powerful  to  fatisfy  all  its  defires  ;  alone  fufficiently 
generous  to  foften  all  its  diftrefles  ;  alone,  immortal,  and 
who  fhall  for  ever  be  loved  :  laftly,  to  love  whom,  can  be 
followed  by  the  fole  repentance  of  having  loved  him  too 
late.' 

It  is  love  therefore,  my  brethren,  which  makes  true  pe- 
nitents :  For  penitence  is  only  a  changing  of  the  heart ; 
and  the  heart  does  not  change,  but  in  changing  its  love  : 
penitence  is  only  the  re-eftablifhment  of  order  in  man ; 
and  man  is  only   in  order  when  he  loves   the  Lord,  for 

whom 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  433 

whom  he  is  made  :  penitence  is  only  a  reconciliation  with 
God  ;  and  your  reconciliation  is  fictitious,  if  you  dp  not  re- 
store to  him  your  heart :  in  a  word,  penitence  obtains  the  re- 
miflion  of  fins,  and  fins  are  remitted  only  in  proportion  to 
our  love. 

.    Tell  us  no  more  then,  my  brethren,  when  we  hold  out 
thefe  grand  examples  for  your  imitation,  that  you   do  not 
feel  yourfelves  born  for  devotion,  and  that  your  heart  is  of 
fuch  a  nature,  that  every  thing  which  is  denominated  pie- 
ty is   difagreeable  to   it.     What !  My  dear  hearer,  your 
heart  is  not  made  for  loving  its  God  ?  Your  heart  is  not  made 
for  the  Creator  who  hath  given  it  to  you  ?  What  !  You 
are  born  then  for  vanity  and  falfehood  ?  Your  heart,  fo  grand 
fo  exalted,  and  which  nothing  here  below  can  fatisfy,  has 
been  bellowed  on  you,  folely  for  pleafures  which   weary 
you ;  creatures  which  deceive  you  ;  honours  which  em- 
barrafs  you ;  a  world   which  tires,  or  difgufls  you  ?  God 
alone,  for  whom  you  are  made,  and  who  hath  made  you. 
what  you  are,  ihould  find  nothing  for  himfelf  in  the  prin- 
ciple of  your  being?  Ah!  You  are  unjuft  towards  your 
own  heart:  You   know  not  yourlelf,  and  you  take  your 
corruption  for   yourfelf.     And  in   effecT:,  if  not  born  for 
virtue,  what  then  is  the  melancholy  myftery  of  your  lot  ? 
For   what  are  you   born  ?    What   chimera  then ,  are   you 
among   men  ?  You  are  born  then  only  for   remorfe,  and 
gloomy  care  ?  the  author  of  your  being,  hath  drawn  you 
from  non-entity,  only  to  render  you  mifcrable  ?  You  are 
gifted  then  with  a  heart  only  to  purfue  an  happinefs,  which 
either  is  vifionary,  or  which  flies  from  you,  and  to  be  a 
continual  burden  to  yourfeU  ? 

O  man  !  open  here  thine  eyes  ;  fathom  to  the  bottom 

the  deftiny  o[  thy  heart,  and  thou  wilt  acknowledge  that 

Vol.  I.  G  3  thefe 


434  SERMON    XV, 

thefe  turbulent  paflions,  which  fill  thee  with  fuch  repug- 
nances to  virtue,  are  foreign  to  thy  nature ;  that  fuch  is 
not  the  natural  ftate  ot  thy  heart ;  that  the  author  of  na- 
ture and  of  grace  had  beftowed  on  thee  a  more  fublime 
lot ;  that  thou  wert  born  for  order,  for  righteoufnefs,  and 
for  innocence ;  that  thou  haft  corrupted  an  happy  nature, 
by  turning  it  towards  iniquitous  paflions  ;  and  that  if  not 
born  for  virtue,  we  know  not  what  thou  art,  and  thou  be* 
comeft  incomprehenfible  to  thyfelf. 

But  you  are  miftaken,  when  you  confider  as  inclina- 
tions incompatible  with  piety,  thofe  warm  propenfitiea 
towards  pleafure  which  are  born  with  you.  From  the 
inftant  that  grace  fhall  have  fanftified  them,  they  will  be- 
come difpofitions  favourable  for  falvation.  The  more  you 
are  animated  in  the  purfuit  of  the  world  and  its  falfe  plea- 
fures,  the  more  eager  fhall  you  be  for  the  Lord,  and  for 
true  riches  ;  the  more  you  have  been  found  tender  and 
feeling  by  creatures,  the  eafier  fhall  be  the  accefs  of  grace 
to  your  heart :  in  proportion  as  your  nature  is  haughty, 
proud,  and  afpiring,  the  more  fhall  you  ferve  the  Lord, 
without  fear,  without  difguife,  without  meannefs  :  the 
more  your  character,  now  appears  eafy,  light,  and  incon- 
stant, the  eafier  it  will  be  for  you  to  detach  yourfelf  from 
your  criminal  attachments,  and  to  return  to  your  God. 
Laflly,  your  paffions  themfelves,  if  I  may  venture  to  fpeak 
in  this  manner,  will  become  the  means  of  facilitating  your 
penitence.  Whatever  had  been  the  occafion  of  your  def- 
truclion,  you  will  render  it  conducive  towards  your  falva- 
tion ;  you  will  fee  and  acknowledge,  that  to  have  received 
a  tender,  faithful,  and  generous  heart,  is  to  have  been 
born  for  piety,  and  that  a  heart  which  creatures  have  been 
able  to  touch,  holds  out  great  and  favourable  difpofitions 
towards  grace. 

Perufe 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  435 

Perufe  what  remains  to  us  of  the  hiftory  of  the  juft, 
and  you  will  fee  that  thofe  who  have  at  the  firft  been  drag* 
ged  away  by  mad  paffions,  who  were  born  with  every  ta- 
lent calculated  for  the  world,  with  the  warmeft  propenfi- 
ties  towards  pleafures,  and  the  molt  oppofite  to  every 
thing  pious,  have  been  thofe  in  whom  grace  hath  operated 
the  moft  wonderful  change.  And,  without  mentioning  the 
(inner  of  our  gofpel,  the  Auguftins,  the  Pelagius',  the 
Fabioles',  thofe  worldly  and  diflipated  fouls,  fo  obftinate 
and  rooted  in  their  debaucheries,  and  fo  diametrically  op- 
pofite, it  would  feem,  to  piety ;  what  progrefs  have  they 
not  fince  made  in  the  ways  of  God  ?  And  their  former  pro- 
penfities,  have,  as  I  may  fay,  only  paved  the  way  for  their 
penitence.  The  fame  foil  which  nourifhes  and  produces 
great  paffions,  gives  birth  like  wife  to  the  greateft  virtues, 
when  it  pleafes  the  Lord  to  change  the  heart.  My  God  ! 
Thou  haft  made  us  all  for  thee,  and  in  the  incomprehenfi- 
ble  arrangement  of  thy  Providence,  and  of  thy  mercy  to- 
wards man,  even  our  weaknefles  are  to  conduce  towards 
our  fan  61  i  fie  at  ion.  It  is  thus,  that  our  (inner  made  repa- 
ration for  the  iniquitous  ufe  of  her  heart. 

But,  2<//y,  The  love  which  (he  had  for  Jefus  Chrift 
was  not  one  of  thofe  vain  and  indolent  fenfibilities,  which 
are  rather  the  natural  emotions  of  an  eafily  afFecled  heart 
than  real  impreffions  of  grace,  and  which  never  produce 
any  thing  in  us,  further  than  that  of  rendering  us  fatisfkd 
with  ourfelves,  and  perfuading  us  that  our  heart  is  chang- 
ed :  the  facrifices,  and  not  the  feeiingsr  prove  the  reality 
of  love. 

Thus,  the  fecond  diforder  of  her  fin  having  been  the 
criminal  and  almoft  univerfal  abufe  of  all  creatures ;  the 
fecond  reparation  of  her  penitence,  is  the  rigoroufly  ab- 

ftaining 


4$6  SERMON     XV, 

ftaining  from  all  thofe  things  which  fhe  had  abufed  in  her 
errors.  Her  hair,  her  perfumes,  the  gifts  of  body  and  of 
nature,  had  been  the  inftruments  of  her  pleafures ;  for 
none  is  ignorant  of  the  ufe  to  which  a  deplorable  paflion 
can  apply  them ;  this  is  the  firft  ftep  of  her  penitence :  the 
perfumes  are  abandoned,  and  even  confecrated  to  a  holy 
miniftry  ;  her  hair  is  neglected,  and  no  longer  ferves  but 
to  wipe  the  feet  of  her  deliverer ;  beauty,  and  every  at- 
tention to  the  body,  are  neglefted,  and  her  eyes  are  blind- 
ed with  tears.  Such  are  the  firft  facrifices  of  her  love  : 
fhe  is  not  contented  with  giving  up  cares  vifibly  criminal, 
fhe  even  facrifices  fuch  as  might  have  been  looked  upon  as 
innocent,  and  thinks,  that  the  propereft  way  of  punifhing 
the  abufe  (he  had  formerly  made  of  them,  is,  by  depriving 
herfelf  of  the  liberty  fhe  might  ftill  have  had  of  employ, 
ing  them. 

In  effeft,  by  having  once  abufed  them,  the  finner  lofes 
the  right  he  had  over  them  ;  what  is  permitted  to  an  inno- 
cent foul,  is  no  longer  fo  to  him  who  has  been  fo  un- 
happy as  to  deviate  from  the  right  path:  Sin  renders  us, 
as  it  were,  anathematiled  to  all  creatures  around  us,  and 
which  the  Lord  had  deftined  to  our  ufe.  Thus,  there  are 
rules  for  an  unfaithful  foul,  not  made  for  other  men  :  he 
no  longer  enjoys,  as  I  may  fay,  the  common  right,  and 
he  muft  no  more  judge  of  his  duties  by  the  general  maxims, 
but  by  the  perfonal  exceptions  which  concern  him. 

Now,  upon  this  principle,  you  are  continually  demand- 
ing of  us,  if  the  ufe  of  fuch  and  fuch  an  artifice  in  drefs 
be  a  crime  ?  If  fuch  and  fuch  public  pleafures  be  forbid- 
den ?  I  mean  not  here  to  decide  for  others ;  but  I  afk  at  you 
who  maintain  their  innocency,  whether  you  have  never 
made  a  bad  ufe  of  them  ?    Have  you  never  made  thefe 

cares 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER, 


43* 


cares  of  the  body,  thefe  amuferhents,  and  thefe  artifices 
inftrumental  towards  iniquitous  paflions  ?  Have  you  never 
employed  them  in  corrupting  hearts,  or  in  nourifhing  the 
corruption  of  your  own  ?  What !  Your  entire  life  has  per«» 
haps  been  one  continued  and  deplorable  chain  ot  paflions. 
and  evils  ;  you  have  abufed  every  thing  around  you,  and 
have  made  them  inftrumental  to  your  irregular  appetites  ; 
you  have  called  them  all  in  aid,  to  that  unfortunate  ten- 
dency of  your  heart ;  your  intentions  have  even  exceeded 
your  evil ;  your  eye  hath  never  been  Tingle  and  you  would 
willingly  never  have  had  that  of  others  to  have  been  fo 
with  regard  to  you  ;  all  your  cares  for  your  perfon,  have 
been  crimes ;  and  when  there  is  queftion  of  returning  tox 
your  God,  and  of  making  reparation  for  a  whole  life  of 
corruption  and  debauchery,  you  pretend  to  difpute  with 
him  for  vanities,  of  which  you  have  always  made  fo  infa- 
mous an  ufe  ?  You  pretend  to  maintain  the  innocency  of 
a  thoufand  abufes,  which,  though  permitted  to  the  reft  of 
men,  would  be  forbidden  to  you?  You  enter  into  contef- 
tation,  when  it  is  intended  to  reftrift  you  from  the  crimi- 
nal pomps  of  the  world  :  You  to  whom  the  moft  innocent, 
if  fuch  there  be,  are  forbidden  in  future,  and  whofe  only 
drefs  ought  henceforth  to  be  fackcloth  and  afhes  ?  Can  you 
ilill  pretend  to  juftify  cares,  which  are  your  inward  fhame, 
and  which  have  fo  often  covered  you  with  confufion  at  the 
feet  of  the  facred  tribunal  ?  And  fhould  fo  much  contef- 
tation  and  fo  many  explanations  be  required,  where  your 
own  fhame  alone  fhould  amply  fuffice  ? 

Befides,  the  holy  fadnefs  of  piety  no  longer  looks  up- 
on, but  with  horror,  that  which  has  once  been  a  ftumb- 
ling-blocktous.  The  contrite  foul  examines  not  whether 
he  may  innocently  indulge  in  it ;  it  fuffices  for  him  to 
know,  that  it  has  a  thoufand  times  been  the  rock  upon 

which 


438  SERMON    XV. 

which  he  lias   Teen  his  innocence  fplit.    Whatever  hat 
been   inftrumental   in  leading  him  to  his  evils,  becomes 
equally  odious  in  his  fight,  as  the  evils  themfelves  ;  what* 
ever  has  been  aflifling  to  his  paflions,  he  equally  detefts  as  the 
paflions    themfelves  ;  whatever,   in  a  word,  has  been  fa- 
vourable to  his  crimes,  becomes   criminal   in   his   eyes. 
Should  it  even  happen  that  we  might  be  difpofed  to  accord 
it  to  his  weaknefs,  ah  !  his  zeal,  his  compunction,  would 
rejeft  the  indulgence,  and  would  adopt  the  interefts   of 
God's  righteoufnefs  againft  men  ;  he  could  not  prevail 
upon  himfelf  to  permit  abufes,  which  would  be  the  means 
of  recalling  to  him  his  paft  diforders  ;  he  would  always 
entertain  a  dread  that  the  fame  manner  of  a&ing  might  re- 
cal  the  fame  difpofitions,  and  that,  engrofled  by  the  fame 
cares,  his  heart  would  find  itfelf  the  fame ;  the  fole  image 
of  his  paft  infidelities  difturbs  and  alarms  him  ;  and,  far 
from  bearing  about  with  him  their  fad  remains,  he  would 
wifh  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  remove  even  from  the  fpots, 
and  to  tear  himfelf  from  the  occupations,  which   renew 
their  remembrance.     And,  furely,  what  kind  *of  a  peni* 
tence  muft  that  be,  which  ftill  permits  us  to  love  all  thofe 
things  which  have  been  the  occafion  of  our  greateft  crimes  ? 
And,  while  yet  dripping  from  a  fhipwreck,  can   we  too 
ilrenuoufly   form    the    refolution   of  for    ever  (hunning 
thofe  rocks  upon  which  we  had  fo  lately  fplit  ? 

Laflly,  true  penitence  caufes  us  to  find  every  where 
matter  of  a  thoufand  invifible  facrifices.  It  does  not  con- 
fine itfelf  to  certain  efTential  privations ;  every  thing  which 
flatters  the  paflions,  every  thing  which  nourifhes  the  life 
of  the  fenfes,  every  fuperfluity  which  tends  folely  to  the 
gratification  of  felf-love,  all  thefe  become  the  fubjeft  of 
its  facrifices  :  and,  like  a  fharp  and  grievous  fword,  it  eve- 
ry where  makes  divifions  and  feparations  painful  to  the 

heart, 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  439 

heart,  and  cuts  even  to  the  «.uick,  whatever  in  the  fmall- 
eft  degree  approached  too  near  to  the  corruption  of  our 
propenfities.  The  grace  of  compunclion  at  once  leads 
the  contrite  foul  to  this  point ;  it  renders  him  ingenious  in 
punifhing  himfelf,  and  arranges  matters  fo  well,  that  every 
thing  ferves  in  expiation  of  his  crimes  ;  that  duties,  fociai 
intercourfe,  honours,  profperity,  and  !the  cares  attendant 
upon  his  ftation,  become  opportunities  of  proving  his  me- 
rit ;  and  that  even  his  pleafures,  through  the  circumfpettior* 
and  faith  with  which  they  are  accompanied,  become  praife- 
worthy  and  virtuous  a&ions. 

Behold  the  divine  fecret  of  penitence  f  As  it  officiates 
here  below  towards  the  criminal  foul,  fays  Tertullion,  as  the 
juftice  of  God,  and  as  the  juflice  of  God  (hall  one  day 
punifh  guilt  by  the  eternal  privation  of  all  creatures  which 
the  finner  hath  abufed,  penitence  anticipates  that  terrible 
judgment ;  it  every  where  impofes  on  itfelf  the  moft  rigor- 
ous privations ;  and  if  the  miferable  condition  of  human 
life  render  the  ufe  of  prefent  things  ftill  requifite,  it  em- 
ploys them  much  lefs  to  flatter  than  to  punifh  the  fenfes, 
by  the  fober  and  auitere  manner  in  which  it  applies  them. 

You  have  only  to  calculate  thereupon  the  truth  of  your 
penitence.  In  vain  do  you  appear  to  have  left  off  the  bru- 
tal gratification  of  the  paffions,  if  the  fame  pomp  and 
fplendour  are  requifite  towards  fatisfying  that  natural  in- 
clination, which  courts  diftinftion  through  a  vain  magnifi- 
cence ;  the  fame  profufions,  in  confequence  of  not  having 
the  courage  to  deprive  felf-love  of  accuftomed  fuperfluities ; 
the  fame  pleafures  of  the  world,  in  confequence  of  be- 
ing unable  to  do  without  it ;  the  fame  advantages  on  the 
part  of  fortune,  in  confequence  of  the  continual  defire  of 
rifing  fuperior  to  others :  in  a  word,  if  you  can  part  with 

nothing 


440  S  ER  M  0  N    XVI 

nothing,  you  exclude  yourfelf  from  nothing;  even  admit- 
ting that  all  thofe  attachments  which  you  ftill  preferve  fhould 
not  be  abfolute  crimes,  your  heart  is  not  penitent;  your 
manners  are  apparently  different,  but  all  your  paflions  are 
ftill  the  fame  ;  you  are  apparently  changed,  but  you  are  not 
converted.  How  rare,  my  brethren,  are  true  penitents ! 
How  common  are  vain  and  fuperficial  converfions !  And 
how  many  fouls,  changed  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  fhall 
one  day  find  themfelves  the  fame  before  God ! 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  have  attained  to  that  degree  of 
felf-denial,  which  keeps  us  without  the  circle  of  attraction ; 
to  the  allurements  of  guilt ;  thofe  laborious  atonements 
mult  likewife  be  added,  which  wafh  out  its  ftains.  Thus, 
in  the  third  place,  the  finner  of  our  gofpel  is  not  contented 
with  having  facrificed  her  hair  and  her  perfumes  to  Jefus 
Chrift ;  (he  proftrates  herfelf  at  his  feet,  fhe  wafhes  them 
with  her  tears,  fhe  wipes,  fhe  kifTes  them  :  and  as  the  third 
diforder  of  her  fin  had  been  a  fhameful  fubjeclion  of  her 
fenfes,  fhe  begins  the  reparation  of  thefe  criminal  lewd- 
nefTes,  by  the  humiliation  and  difguft  of  thefe  lowly  fer- 
vices. 

New  inftru&ion:  it  is  not  fufficient  to  remove  from  the 
paflions  thofe  allurements  which  incite  them  ;  it  is  likewife 
neceflary  that  laborious  exertions  of  fuch  virtues  as  are 
moll  oppofite  to  them,  infenfibly  reprefs,  and  recal  them 
to  duty  and  order.  You  were  fond  of  gaming,  pleafures, 
amufements,  and  every  thing  which  compofes  a  worldly 
life  ;  it  is  doing  little  to  cut  off  from  thefe  pleafures  that 
portion  which  may  ftill  conduct  to  guilt;  if  you  wifh  that 
the  love  of  the  world  be  extinguiflied  in  your  heart,  it  is 
neceflary  that  prayer,  retirement,  filence,  and  a£ls  of  cha- 
rity, fucceed  to  thefe  diffolute  manners;  and  that,  notfa- 

tisfied 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  44 1 

lisfied  with  fhunningthe  crimes  of  the  world,  you  Hkewife 
fly  from  the  world  itfelf.  By  giving  yourfelf  up  to  bound- 
lefs  and  fhameful  paflions,  you  have  fortified  the  empire 
of  the  fenfes  and  of  the  flefh ;  it  is  neceffary  that  failing, 
watching,  the  yoke  of  mortification,  gradually  extinguilh 
thefe  impure  fires,  weaken  thefe  tendencies,  become  un* 
governable  through  a  long  indulgence  of  voluptuoufnefs, 
and  not  only  remove  guilt  from  you,  but  operate,  as  I 
may  fay,  to  dry  up  its  fource  in  your  heart.  Otherwifc 
by  fparing,  you  only  render  yourfelf  more  miferable  :  the 
old  attachments  which  you  mall  have  broken  without  hav- 
ing weakened,  and,  as  it  were,  rooted  them  from  your 
heart  by  mortification,  will  incefTantly  be  renewing  their 
attacks  ;  yourpaffions,  become  more  violent  and  impetuous 
by  being  checked  and  fufpended  without  your  having  weak- 
ened and  overcome  them,  will  make  you  undergo  agitations 
and  ftorms,  fuch  as  you  had  never  experienced  even  in 
guilt :  you  will  behold  yourfelf  on  the  point,  every  mo- 
ment, of  a  melancholy  fhipwreck  ;  you  will  never  tafte  of 
peace  in  this  new  life.  You  will  find  yourfelf  more  weak, 
more  exhaufted,  more  animated  for  pleafure,  more  eafy  t© 
be  fhaken,  and  more  difgufled  with  the  fervice  of  God,  in 
this  ftate  of  imperfect  penitence,  than  you  had  even  been 
formerly  in  the  midft  of  diflipation  :  every  thing  will  be- 
come a  rock  to  you ;  you  will  be  a  continual  temptation  to 
yourfelf ;  you  will  be  aftonifhed  to  find  within  you  a  ftill 
greater  repugnance  to  duties ;  and,  as  it  is  hardly  poflible 
to  ftand  out  long  againft  yourfelf,  you  will  foon  become 
difgufted  with  a  virtue  by  which  you  fufFer  fo  much  ;  and, 
in  confequence  of  your  having  wifhed  to  be  only  a  tranquil 
and  mitigated  penitent,  you  will  be  an  unhappy  one,  without 
eonfolation,  without  peace,  and  confequently  without  per- 
feverance.  To  augment  and  multiply  the  Sacrifices  is  to 
abridge  the  fufferings  in  virtue ;  and  whatever  we  are  in- 
Vol.  I.  H3  duced. 


442  SERMON     XV, 

duced  to  fpare  to  the  paffions.  becomes  rather  the  punifh- 
ment  and  the  difguft  than  the  foftening  of  our  penitence. 

The  laft  diforder  which  had  accompanied  the  fin  of  the 
woman  of  our  gofpel,  was  the  publicnefs  of  the  fcandal  at- 
tending the  corruption  of  her  conduct.  The  fcandal  of  the 
Jaw,  which  was  dishonoured  in  the  opinion  of  the  Romans 
and  of  fo  many  other  gentiles,  fpread  throughout  Palefline, 
and  who,  witneffing  the  ill-conducl  of  our  finner,  took 
occafion,  no  doubt,  from  it,  to  blafpheme  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  to  defpife  the  fan&ity  of  his  law,  to  harden  thern- 
felves  in  their  impious  fuperflitions,  and  to  look  upon  the 
hope  of  Ifrael  and  the  wonders  of  God,  as  related  in  the 
holy  books,  as  fi&ions  invented  to  amule  a  credulous  peo- 
ple. 

Scandal  of  place:  Ker  ill-conducl;  had  been  confpicu- 
ous  in  the  city,5  that  is  to  fay,  in  the  capital  of  the 
country  ;  from  whence  the  reports  of  fuch  accidents  were 
foon  circulated  throughout  Judea.  Now,  behold  the  fcan- 
dals  for  which  her  penitence  makes  reparation  :  the  fcan- 
dal of  t.he  law,  by  renouncing  the  fuperflitious  traditions 
of  the  Pharifees,  who  had  adulterated  their  precepts  ;  and 
by  conferring  Jefus  Chrift,  who  was  the  end  and  the  ful- 
filment of  them.  For,  too  frequently,  after  having  dif- 
honoured  religion  in  the  minds  of  the  impious,  through 
our  excefTes  and  fcandalous  conducl,  we  again  difhonour 
it  through  our  pretended  piety  ;  we  create  for  ourfelves  a 
kind  of  virtue  altogether  worldly,  fuperficial,  and  pharifai- 
cal;  we  become  fuperflitious  without  becoming  penitent  ; 
we  make  the  abufes  'of  devotion  fucceed  to  thofe  of  the 
world  ;  the  only  reparation  we  make  for  the  fcandal  of  our 
debaucheries,  is  that  of  a  fenfual  piety  ;  and  we  reflect 
more  difgrace  upon  virtue,  through  the  weaknefTes  and  il- 

lufions 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  443 

iufions  which  we  mingle  with  it,  than  we  did  by  our  open 
and  avowed  exceffes.  Thus  the  impious  are  more  harden- 
ed in  their  [iniquity,  and  more  removed  from  converfion, 
by  the  example  of  our  falfe  penitence,  than  ever  they  had 
formerly  been  by  the  example  even  of  our  vices. 

Laftly,  the  fcandal  of  place  :  That  fame  city  which  had 
been  the  theatre  of  her  fhame  and  of  her  crimes,  becomes 
that  of  her  penitence.     She  goes  not  into  retired  places  to 
give  vent  to  her  forrows  and  her  tears;  fhe  takes  no  advan- 
tage, like  Nicodemus,  of  the  fhades  of  night  to  come  to 
Jefus  Chrift,  nor  waits  the  opportunity  of  his  being  in  a  re- 
tired corner  of  the  city,  in  order  to  conceal  from  the  eyes 
of  the  public  the  firft  fteps  of  her  coverfion.     In  the  face 
of  that  great  city  which  fhe  had  fcandalifed  by  her  conducl; 
fhe  enters  into  the  houfe  of  the  pharifee,  and  is  not  afraid 
of  fubmitting  to  have  as  fpe&ators  of  her  penitence,  thofe 
who  had  been  witnefles  of  her  former  crimes.     For  often, 
after  having  defpifed  the  world's  opinion  in  debauchery,  it 
becomes  dreaded  in  virtue  :  the  eyes  of  the  public  did  not 
appear  formidable  to  us  during  our  diflipation;   they  be- 
come fo  in  our  penitence  ;  our  vices  were  carelefsly  laid 
open  to  view  ;  our  virtues  are  backward  and  cautious;  we 
dare  not  at  firft  declare  openly  for  Jefus    Chrift;  we  are 
afhamed  to  fhew  ourfelves  in  a  light  fo  new  to  us ;   we  have 
gloried  in  vice  as  if  it  had  been  a  virtue,  and  we  blufh  for 
being  virtuous,  as  though  it  were  a  fhame. 

As  our  fortunate  finner  had  not  been  timid  in  evil,  fo  is 
fhe  not  timed  in  good ;  fhe  bears,  even  with  a  holy  infen- 
fibility,  the  reproaches  of  the  pharifee,  who  recounts  in 
the  prefence  of  all  the  guefts,  the  infamy  of  her  paft  man- 
ners. For  the  world,  typified  by  that  pharifee,  feels  a  grati- 
fication in  the  mean  pleafure  of  recalling  the  former  errors 

of 


444 


0  E  R  M  O  M     XV. 


of  thofe  whom  grace  liath  touched  :  far  from  reaping  any 
edification  from  their  prefent good  conduct,  it  is  continual- 
ly dwelling  upon  their  paft  irregularity  ;  it  tries  to  weaken 
the  merit  of  what  they  now  do,  by  renewing  upon  every 
occafion  the  remembrance  of  what  they   have   done;  it 
would  appear  that  the  errors  which  they  lament  authorife 
thofe  which  we  love,  and  in  which  we   ftill   continue  to 
live  ;  and  that  it  is  more  allowable  for  us  to  be  finners,  fince 
real  and  fincere  penitents  repent  of  having  been  fo.     It  is 
thus,  O  my  God !  that  every  thing  worketh  out  our  de» 
flruclion,  and  that,  inftead  of  blefling  and  praifing  the 
riches  ot  thy  mercy  when  thou  withdraweft  worldly  and 
difTolute  fouls  from  the  ways  of  perdition,  and  inftead  of 
being  excited  by  thefe  grand  examples,  to  have  recourfe  to 
thy  clemency,  always  fo  ready  to  receive  the  repentant  fin- 
ner;  infenfible  and  blind  to  his  penitence,  we  are  occupied 
only  in  recalling  his  errors,  as  if  we  were  entitled  from 
thence  to  fay  to  ourfelves,  that  we  have  nothing  to  dread 
in  debauchery  ;  that  one  day  or  other  we  fhall  likewife  be- 
come contrite  ;  and  that  the  fincereft  penitents,  having  once 
been  perhaps  ftill  more  deeply  involved  than  we  in  mad 
Jpaflions,  we  need  not  defpair  of  one  day  or  other  being 
able  to  quit  them  as  well  as  they !  O  inexplicable  blindnefs 
of  man,  that  finds  inducements  to  debauchery  even  in  the 
examples  oi  penitence ! 

Such  were  the  reparation*  of  our  finner.  But  if  it  be 
*n  error  to  reprefent  to  ourfelves  a  change  ol  life  as  the 
fimple  ceflation  of  our  former  debaucheries,  without  ad- 
ding to  that  thofe  expiations  which  wafli  them  out ;  it  is 
likewife  another  not  lefs  dangerous,  the  confidering  thefe 
expiations  as  involving  you  in  afituation,  gloomy,  wretch- 
ed, and  hopelefs.     Thus-,  after  having  mentioned  to  you 

the 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  445 

the  reparations  of  her  penitence,  it  is  proper  that  I  now 
hy  before  you  the  confolatidns. 

Part  II.  Gome  unto  me,  fays  Jefus  Chfift,  all  ye  wh<* 
are  weary  of  the  ways  of  iniquity ;  take  my  yoke  upon 
you  and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and 
ye  (hall  find  reft  unto  your  fouls ;  for  my  yoke  is  eafy  and 
my  burden  is  light. 

This  promife,  addrefled  to  all  Criminal  fouls,  who  are  aU 
ways  miferable  in  debauchery,  is  completely  fulfilled  in 
the  inftance  of  the  (inner  of  our  gofpel.  In  effeft,  every 
thing  which  had  formerly  been  to  her,  in  her  diflipations, 
an  inexhauftible  fund  of  difgufl,  becomes  now,  in  her 
penitence,  a  fruitful  fource  of  confolation  ;  and  with  Jefus 
Chrift  fhe  is  happy,  through  the  fame  means  which,  during 
her  guilt,  had  occafioned  all  her  miferies. 

Yes  my  brethren,  an  iniquitous  love  had  been  her  firft 
guilt,  and  the  firft  fource  of  all  herdiftreffes  ;  the  firft  con- 
folation of  her  penitence,  is  a  holy  derile&ion  for  Jefus 
Chrift,  and  the  wide  difference  between  that  divine  and  new 
love,  and  the  profane  love  which  had  hitherto  engrofTed  her 
heart.  I  fay  the  difference  in  the  objett,  in  the  proceed- 
ings, and  in  the  correfpondence. 

In  the  objeft  :  the  depravity  of  her  heart,  had  attached 
her  to  men,  corrupted,  inconftant,  deceitful,  rather  com- 
panions of  her  debauchery  than  real  friends,  lefs  watchful 
to  render  her  happy,  than  attentive  to  the  gratification  of 
their  own  inordinate  paflions ;  to  men,  who  always  join 
contempt,  to  a  gratified  paflion  ;  to  Amnons,  in  whofe 
eyes,  from  the  moment  that  they  have  obtained  their  wifhes, 
the   unfortunate    objecl  of  their  love   becomes   vile   and 

hateful  : 


446  SERMON'  XV. 

hateful ;  to  men  vvhofe  weaknefTes,  artifices,  tranfports  and 
defefts  fhe   well   knew,  and  whom  fhe  inwardly  acknow- 
ledged to  be  unworthy  of  her  heart,  and  to  whom  fhe  paid 
any  attention,  more  through  the  unfortunate  bias  of  paflion, 
than  the  free   choice,  of  her  reafon  ;  in   a  word,  to  men, 
who  had  never  yet  been  able   to    fix    the   natural    infta- 
bility,  and  love  of  change,  of  her  heart.     Her  penitence 
attaches  her  to  Jefus  Chrift,  the  model  of  all  virtue,  the 
fource    of   all   grace,  the  principle  of  all  light ;  the  more 
fhe  ftudies  him,  the  more   does   fhe  difcover  his  greatnefs 
and  fan£tity ;  the  more  fhe  loves  him,  the  more  does  fhe 
find  him  worthy  of  being  loved  :  to  Jefus  Chrift,  the  faith- 
ful, immortal,  and  difinterefted  friend  of  her  foul,  who  is 
concerned   for  her    eternal   interefts    alone;  who  is  inte- 
refted  only  in  what  may  render  her  happy ;  who  is  even 
come  to  facrifice  his  eafe,  his  glory  and  his  life,  in  order  to 
fecure  her  immortal  happinefs  ;  who  has  diftinguifhed  her, 
from  among  fo  many  women  of  Judah,  by  an  overflowing 
of  mercy,  when  fhe  had  rendered  herfelf  the  moll  confpicu- 
ous  of  her  fex,  by  the  excefs  of  her  wretchednefs ;  who  ex- 
pects nothing  from  her,  but  is  willing  to  beflow  on  her, 
far  more  than  fhe  could  ever  have  hoped;  ia/i/y,  to  Jefus 
Chrift,  who  has  tranquilifed   her  heart,  by  purifying  it ; 
who  has  fixed  its  inconftancy,  and  fubdued  the  multiplicity 
of  its  defires ;  who  has  filled  the  whole  extent  of  her  love ; 
who  has  reftored  to  her  that  internal  peace,  which  creatures 
had  never  been  able  to  beflow. 

O  my  foul  !  How  long  fhalt  thou  continue  to  love  in 
creatures,  what  is  but  thine  affliction  and  punifhment  ? 
Wouldft  thou  fuffer  more  by  breaking  afunder  thy  chains, 
than  thou  now  doft  in  bearing  them  ?  Would  virtue  and 
innocence  be  more  painful,  than  thofe  fhameful  pafhons 
which  at  prefent  debafe  and  rend  thee?  Ah!  Thou  fhalt 

find 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  447 

find  every  thing  light  and  eafy,  in  comparison  with  the 
cruel  agitations  which  render  thee  fo  unhappy  in  guilt.  Dif- 
ference in  theobjec~l  of  her  love. 

Difference  in  the  fteps.  The  excefs  of  paflion  had  led 
her  to  a  thoufand  fteps,  in  oppofition  to  her  inclination, 
her  glory,  and  her  reafon  ;  had  led  her  to  make  a  Sacrifice 
to  men  of  her  quiet,  her  inclinations,  her  honour,  and 
her  liberty  ;  to  fharrieful  condefcenfions,  and  difagreeable 
fubmiflions  ;  to  important  Sacrifices,  for  which  the  only 
return  was  their  thinking  themfelves  more  entitled  from 
thence  to  exacl:  ftill  more  :  for  fuch  is  the  ingratitude  of 
men ;  the  more  you  allow  them  to  become  mafters  of 
your  heart,  the  more  they  erecl;  themfelves  its  tyrant :  in 
their  opinion,  the  excefs  of  your  attachment  to  them  dimi- 
nifhes  its  merit ;  and  they  punifh  you  for  the  fervour  and  the 
fharne  of  your  tranfports,  by  taking  occafion,  even  from 
thence,  to  fufFer  all,  even  to  their  gratitude,  to  be  cooled. 

Behold  the  grateful  returns  experienced  by  our  finner 
in  the  ways  of  the  paflions  !  But  in  her  penitence  every 
thing  is  reckoned  :  the  flighteft  flep  which  fhe  takes  for 
Jefus  Chrift  is  noticed,  is  praifed,  is  defended  by  Jefus 
Chrift  himfelf.  The  pharifee  vainly  endeavours  to  leflen 
her  merit,  (for  the  world  never  ftudies  but  to  diminifh  the 
value  of  the  virtues  of  the  jufl),  the  Saviour  undertakes 
her  defence  :  "  Seed  thou  this  woman  ?"  faid  he  to  him, 
as  if  he  thereby  meant  to  fay,  Knoweft  thou  all  the  merit 
of  the  facrifices  which  fhe  makes  to  me,  and  how  far  the 
ftrength  and  the  excefs  of  her  love  for  me  extend  ?  She 
hath  not  ceafed  to  wafh  my  feet  with  tears,  and  to  wipe 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  He  reckons,  he  ob- 
ferves  every  thing  ;  a  figh,  a  tear,  a  fimple  movement  of 
the  heart ;  nothing  is  loft  upon  him  of  whatever  is  done 

for 


448  SERMON    XV. 

for  him  ;  nothing  cfcapes  the  exa&nefs  of  his  glances,  and 
the  tendernefs  of  his  heart ;  we  are  well  aflured  that  we 
ferve  no  ungrateful  mailer  ;  he  overvalues  even  the  flight- 
eft  facrifices.  •■  Seeft  thou  this  woman  ?"  He  would,  it 
appears,  that  all  men  view  her  with  the  fame  eyes  that  he 
did  :  that  all  men  mould  be  as  equitable  eftimators  as  him- 
felf  of  her  love,  and  of  her  tears :  he  no  longer  fees  her 
debaucheries  ;  he  forgets  a  whole  life  of  error  and  guilt ; 
he  fees  only  her  repentance  and  her  tears. 

Now,  what  confolation  for  a  contrite  foul,  to  have  it  in 
her  power  to  fay  to  herfelf,  Till  now,  I  have  lived  on- 
ly for  error  and  vanity ;  my  days,  my  years,  my  cares, 
my  inquietudes,  my  diftrefTes,  all  are  hitherto  loft,  and 
no  longer  exift,  even  in  the  memory  of  thofe  men  for 
whom  alone  I  have  lived,  for  whom  alone  I  have  facrificed 
every  thing ;  my  re&itude,  my  attentions,  my  anxieties, 
have  never  been  repaid  but  with  ingratitude ;  but,  hence, 
forth,  whatever  I  do  for  Jefus  Chrift  will  receive  its  full 
eftimation  ;  my  fufferings,  my  afflictions,  the  flighteft  fa- 
crifices of  my  heart ;  my  fighs,  my  tears,  which  I  had  fo 
often  fhed  in  vain  for  creatures  ;  all  fhall  be  written  in  im- 
mortal characters  in  the  book  of  life :  all  thefe  fhall  eter- 
nally exift  in  the  remembrance  of  that  faithful  Mafter 
whom  I  ferve ;  all  thefe,  in  fpite  of  the  defects  mingled 
with  them  by  my  weaknefs  and  my  corruption,  fhall  be 
excufed,  and  even  purified  through  the  grace  of  my  Re- 
deemer ;  and  he  will  crown  his  gifts  by  rewarding  my  fee- 
ble deferts  :  I  no  longer  live  but  for  eternity  ;  I  no  longer 
labour  in  vain  ;  my  days  are  real,  my  life  is  no  longer  a 
dream.  O  my  brethren,  what  a  blefTed  gain  is  piety  ! 
And  how  great  are  the  confolations  which  a  foul  recalled 
to  Jefus  Chrift  receives,  in  compenfation  for  the  trifling 
lofies  which  he  facrifices  to  him  ! 

Laftly 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  449 

Laftly,  Difference  in  the  certitude  of  the  correfpond- 
ence.  That  love  of  creatures  which  actuated  our  finner, 
had  always  been  attended  with  the  rood  cruel  uncertainties. 
One  is  always  fufpicious  of  an  equal  return  ot  love:  the 
heart  is  ingenious  in  rendering  itfelf  unhappy,  and  in  tor- 
menting itfelf  with  vain  fears,  fufpicions,  and  jealoufies  : 
the  more  generous,  true,  and  frank  it  is  itfelf,  the  more 
doth  it  fuffer:  it  is  the  martyr  ot  its  own  diftrufts.  You 
know  this  well ;  and  it  does  not  belong  to  me  to  pretend 
to  fpeak  from  this  place  the  language  of  your  extravagant 
paflions. 

But  what  a  new  defliny  in  the  change  of  her  love ! 
Scarcely  is  her  love  of  Jefus  Chrift  commenced,  when  fhe 
is  certain  of  being  beloved  :  fhe  hears  from  his  divine 
mouth  the  favourable  fentence,  which,  in  remitting  her 
fins,  confirms  to  her  the  love  and  the  affeclion  of  him  who 
remits  them  :  not  only  are  her  debaucheries  forgotten,  but 
fhe  is  urged  to  be  convinced  in  her  own  mind,  that  they  are 
forgotten,  pardoned,  and  wafhed  out;  all  her  fears  are  pre^ 
vented,  and  ground  is  no  more  left  for  miftruft  or  uncer- 
tainty ;  nor  can  fhe  longer  fufpecf  the  love  of  Jefus  Chrift, 
without  at  the  fame  time  fufpecling  his  power,  and  the 
faithfulnefs  of  his  promifes. 

Such  is  the  lot  of  a  contrite  foul  on  quitting  the  tribunal 
where  Jefus  Chrift,  through  the  miniftry  of  the  prieft,  has 
remitted  debaucheries,  which  he  has  wafhed  out  with  his 
tears  and  his  love.  In  fpite  ot  that  uncertainty  infeparable 
from  the  prefent  Mate  of  life,  whether  he  be  worthy  of  love 
or  hatred,  an  internal  peace  bears  teftimony  in  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  that  he  is  reftored  to  Jefus  Chrift  :  he  ex- 
periences a  calm  and  a  joy  in  his  confeience,  which  can  be 
the  fruit  of  righteoufnefs  alone.     Not  that  he  is  entirely  de- 

Vol.  I.  I  3  livered 


450  SERMON     XV. 

livered  from  alarm  and  apprehenfion  on  account  of  his 
pad  infidelities,  and  that,  in  certain  moments,  more  for. 
cibly  ftruck  with  horror  at  his  paft  errors,  and  the  feverity 
of  God's  judgments,  he  is  not  tempted  to  confider  all  as 
hopelefs  to  him  ;  but  Jefus  Chrift,  who  himfelf  excites 
thefe  dorms  in  his  heart,  has  quickly  calmed  them  ;  his 
voice  flill  inwardly  fays  to  him,  as  formerly  to  Peter  alarm- 
ed upon  the  waves  :  "  O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore 
doubteft  thou  ?"  Have  I  not  given  thee  fufficient  proofs  of 
my  kindnefs  and  my  protection  ?  Reflect  upon  all  that  I 
have  done  in  order  to  withdraw  thee  from  the  ways  of  ini- 
quity :  I  feek  not  with  fuch  perfeverance  the  fheep  that  I 
love  not  ;  I  recal  them  not  from  fo  far,  to  let  them  periih 
before  my  eyes  ;  diftruft  then  no  more  my  affe£lion  ;  dread 
only  thine  own  lukewarmnefs  or  inconftancy.  Firft  con- 
folation  of  her  penitence  ;  the  difference  of  her  love. 

The  fecond  is  the  facrificeof  her  paflions.  She  throws 
at  the  feet  of  Jefus  Chrift  her  perfumes,  her  hair,  all  the 
attachments  of  her  heart,  all  the  deplorable  inftruments  of 
her  vanities,  and  of  her  crimes  ;  and  do  not  fuppofe  that 
in  a&ingthus  fhe  facrifices  her  pleafures  ;  fhe  facrifices  only 
her  anxieties  and  her  puniihments. 

In  vain  is  it  faid  that  the  cares  of  the  paflions  conflitute 
the  felicity  of  thofe  poflefled  by  them  ;  it  is  a  language  in 
which  the  world  glories,  but  which  experience  belies. 
What  purtifhment  to  a  worldly  foul,  anxious  to  pleafe,  are 
the  folicitous  cares  of  a  beauty,  which  fades  and  decays 
everyday!  What  attentions  and  conflraints!  They  mull 
take  upon  themfelves,  upon  their  inclinations,  upon  their 
pleafures,  upon  their  indolence :  what  inward  vexations, 
when  thefe  cares  have  been  unavailing,  and  when  more 
fortunate    charms   have   attracted   the  general    attention  ! 

What 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  45 1 

What  tyranny  is  that  of  cuftom!  It  mull,  however,  be 
fubmitted  to,  in  fpite  ot  deranged  affairs,  a  remonftrating 
hufband,  tradefmen  who  murmur,  and  who  dearly  fell  the 
remiffions  perhaps  required.  I  fay  nothing  of  the  cares  o£ 
ambition  :  what  a  life  is  that  paffed  in  defigns,  projects, 
fears,  hopes,  alarms,  jealoufies,  fubje&ion,  and  meannef- 
fes  !  I  fpeak  not  of  a  profane  connection  :  what  terrors 
left  the  myftery  be  laid  open  !  What  eyes  to  fhun  !  What 
fpies  to  deceive  !  What  mortifying  repulfes  to  undergo 
from  the  very  perfon  for  whom  they  have  perhaps  facrificed 
their  honour  and  their  liberty,  and  of  whom  they  dare  not 
even  complain !  To  all  thefe,  add  thofe  cruel  moments 
when  paffion,  lefs  unruly,  allows  us  leifure  to  infpe£tour- 
felves,  and  to  feel  the  whole  infamy  of  our  fituation  ;  thofe 
moments  in  which  the  heart,  born  for  more  folid  joys, 
wearies  of  its  own  idols,  and  finds  ample  punifhment  in 
its  difgufts  and  in  its  own  inconftancy.  World  profane  ! 
If  fuch  be  the  felicity  thou  vaunted  fo  much,  diftinguifh 
thy  worfhippers,  and,  by  crowning  them  with  fuch  an 
happinefs,  punifh  them  for  the  faith  which  they  have  fo 
creduloufly  given  to  thy  promifes. 

Behold  what  our  finner  cafts  at  the  feet  of  Jefus  Chrift, 
her  bonds,  her  troubles,  her  flavery  ;  in  appearance,  the 
inftruments  of  her  pleafures,  in  truth  the  fource  of  all  her 
afflictions.  Now,  granting  that  this  were  the  only  confo- 
lation  of  virtue,  is  it  not  a  fufficiently  grand  one,  that  of 
deliverance  from  the  keeneft  anxieties  of  the  pafhons  ?  To 
have  your  happinefs  no  longer  dependant  upon  the  incon- 
ftancy, the  perfidy,  and  the  injuftice  of  creatures  ;  to 
have  placed  yourfelf  beyond  the  reach  of  events ;  to  pof- 
fefs  in  your  own  heart  all  that  is  wanting  towards  your  hap- 
pinefs, or  to  fuffice,  as  I  may  fay,  to  yourfelf  ?  What  do 
you  lofe,  in  facrificing  gloomy  and  anxious  cares,  in  or- 
der 


4£2  SERMON     XV. 

der  to  find  peace  and  inward  joy  ;  and  to  lofe  all  for  Jefus 
Chrift,  is  it  not,  as  the  apoftle  fays,  to  have  gained  all  ? 
Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole,  faid  the  Saviour  to  the 
woman  ;  go  in  peace.  Behold  the  treafure  which  me  re- 
ceives in  return  for  the  paflions  facrificed  to  him  :  behold 
the  reward  and  the  confolation  of  her  tears  and  of  her  re- 
pentance, that  peace  of  mind  which  (lie  had  never,  as  yet, 
been  able  to  find,  and  which  the  world  hath  never  beftow- 
ed.  Fools  !  fays  a  prophet ;  mifery  to  you,  then,  who 
drag  on  the  load  of  your  paflions,  as  the  ox  in  labouring 
drags  on  the  chains  of  the  yoke  which  galls  him,  and  who 
rum  on  to  your  definition  by  the  way  even  of  anguifh, 
fubje£iion  and  conflraint ! 

Laftly,  By  her  fin  me  had  been  degraded  in  the  eyes  of 
men  :  they  beheld  with  contempt  the  fhame  and  the  infamy 
of  her  conduct  ;  fhe  lived  degraded  from  every  right  which 
a  good  reputation  and  a  life  free  from  reproach  beftow ; 
and  the  pharifee  is  even  aflonifhed  that  Jeius  Chrift  mould 
condefcend  to  fufTer  her  at  his  feet. 

For  the  world,  which  authorifes  whatever  leads  to  difli- 
pation,  never  fails  to  cover  diflipation  itfelt  with  infamy; 
it  approves,  it  juftifies  the  maxims,  the  habits,  and  the 
pleafures  which  corrupt  the  heart ;  and  yet  it  infills  that 
innocency  and  regularity  of  manners  be  united  with  cor- 
ruption of  heart;  it  infpires  all  the  paflions,  yet  it  always 
blames  the  confequences  of  them  ;  it  requires  you  to  ftu- 
6y  the  art  of  pleafing,  and  it  defpifes  you  from  the  mo- 
ment that  you  have  fucceeded  ;  its  lafcivious  theatres  re- 
found  with  extravagant  praifes  of  profane  love,  and  its 
converfations  confift  only  of  biting  fatires  upon  thofe  who 
yield  themielves  up  to  that  unfortunate  tendency  ;  it  praifes 
the  graces,  the  charms,  the  miferable  talents  which  light 

up 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  4,53 

up  impure  defires,  and  it  loads  you  with  everlafting  fhame 
and  reproach  from  the  moment  that  you  appear  inflamed 
with  them.  O  how  infinitely  above  defcription  wretched 
are  thofe  who  drag  on  in  a  ftill  beloved  world,  and  which 
they  find  themfelves  incapable  of  doing  without,  the  mi- 
serable wrecks  of  a  reputation,  either  blafted  or  but  feebly 
confirmed  ;  and  wherever  they  {hew  themfelves,  to  aroufe 
the  remembrance  or  the  fufpicion  ot  their  crimes  ! 

Such  had  been  the  afflictions  and  the  difgraces,  with 
which  the  paffions  and  the  debaucheries  of  our  Tinner 
were  followed  ;  but  her  penitence  reftores  to  her  more  ho- 
nour and  more  glory  than  had  been  taken  from  her  by  the 
infamy  of  her  crimes.  This  finner,  fo  defpifed  in  the 
world,  whofe  name  was  never  mentioned  without  a  blufh, 
is  praifed  for  the  very  things  which  even  the  world  confi- 
ders  as  moll  honourable,  viz.  kindnefs  of  heart,  generofity 
of  fentiments,  and  the  fidelity  of  an  holy  love ;  this  fin- 
ner, with  whom  no  companion  durft  ever  be  made,  and 
whofe  fcandal  was  without  example  in  the  city,  is  exalted 
above  the  pharifee  ;  the  truth,  the  fincerity  of  her  faith,  of 
her  compunction,  of  her  love,  merits  at  once  the  prefer- 
ence over  a  fuperficial  and  pharafaical  virtue  :  Laftly, 
This  finner,  whofe  name  was  concealed,  as  if  unworthy  of 
being  pronounced,  and  whofe  only  appellation,  is  that  of 
her  crimes,  is  become  the  glory  of  Jefus  Chrift,  the  praife 
of  grace,  and  an  honour  to  the  gofpel.  O  matchlefs 
power  of  virtue ! 

Yes,  my  brethren,  vitue  renders  us  a  fpeclacle,  worthy 
of  God,  of  angels,  and  of  men  :  it  once  more  exalts  a 
fallen  reputation  ;  it  renews  our  claim,  even  here  below, 
to  rights  and  honours  which  we  had  forfeited  ;  it  wafhes 
out  ftains,  which  the  malignity  of  men  would  wifh  to  be 

immortal : 


454 


SERMON    XVi 


immortal  :  it  rejoins  us  to  the  fervants.of  Jefus  Chrift, 
and  to  the  fociety  of  the  jufl,  of  whofe  intercourfe  we 
were  formerly  unworthy  :  it  calls  forth  in  us  a  thoufand 
laudable  qualities,  which  the  vortex  ot  the  pafhons  had  al- 
moft  forever  cngulphed :  La/tly,  it  attracts  more  glory  to 
us,  than  our  paft  manners  had  attached  fhame  and  con- 
tempt. While  Jonah  is  rebellious  to  the  will  of  God,  he 
is  the  curfe  of  Heaven,  and  of  the  earth  ;  even  idolaters 
are  under  the  neceflity  of  feparating  him  from  their  fociety, 
and  of  cafting  him  out,  as  a  child  of  infamy  and  maledic- 
tion ;  and  the  belly  of  a  monftcr  is  the  only  afylum  in 
which  he  can  conceal  his  reproach  and  fhame.  But  touch- 
ed with  contrition,  fcarcely  hath  he  implored  the  eternal 
mercies  of  the  God  of  his  Fathers,  when  he  becomes  the 
admiration  of  the  proud  Ninevah  ;  when  the  grandees  and 
the  people  unite  to  render  him  honour  still  then  unheard  of; 
when  the  prince  himfelf,  full  of  refpecl  for  his  virtue,  de- 
fcends  from  the  throne,  and  covers  himfelf  with  fackcloth 
and  afhes,  in  obedience  to  the  man  of  God.  Thofe  paf- 
fions  which  the  world  praifes  and  infpires,  had  drawn  up- 
on us  the  contempt  even  of  the  world  ;  virtue  which  the 
world  cenfures,  and  combats,  attracts  to  us,  however  unwil- 
lingly on  its  part,  its  veneration  and  homages. 

• 
What,  my  dear  hearer,  prevents  you  then  from  terminat- 
ing your  fhame,  and  your  inquietudes,  with  your  crimes  ? 
Is  it  the  reparations  of  penitence  which  alarm  you  ?  But  the 
longer  you  delay  the  more  they  multiply,  the  more  debts  are 
contracted,  the  more  you  increafe  the  neceflity  of  new 
rigours  to  your  weaknefs.  Ah  !  if  the  reparations  difcou- 
rage  you  at  prefent,  what  fhall  it  one  day  be,  when  your 
crimes,  multiplied  to  infinity,  almoft  no  punifhment  what- 
ever fliall  be  capable  of  expiating  them  ?  They  (hall  then 
plunge  you  intodefpair ;  and  you  will  adopt  the  miferable 

party 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  A  SINNER.  455 

party  of  carting  off  all  yoke,  and  of  no  longer  reckoning 
upon  your  falvation  ;  you  will  raife  up  to  you'rfelf  new 
maxims,  and  modes  of  reafoning,  in  order  to  tranquilize 
your  mind  in  freethinking  ;  you  willcpnfider  as  needlefs  a 
penitence  which  will  then  appear  to  you  impoflible. 
When  the  embarrarfments  of  the  confcience  come  to  a 
certain  point,  we  feel  a  kind  of  gloomy  fatisfa&ion  in 
perfuading  ourfelves,  that  no  refource  is  left;  we  calm 
ourfelves  on  the  foundation  of  truths,  when  we  fee  our- 
felves fo  far  removed  from  what  they  prefcribe  ;  we  fly  to 
unbelief  for  a  remedy,  from  the  moment  that  we  believe 
it  is  no  lonp-er  to  be  found  in  faith  ;  trom  the  moment  that 
the  chaos  becomes  inexplicable  to  us,  we  have  foon  fettled 
it  in  our  minds,  that  all  is  uncertain.  And  befides,  what 
mould  there  be  fo  melancholy  and  fo  rigorous  in  repara- 
tions, whole  holy  merit  ought  to  fpring  trom  love  ? 

Unbelieving  foul !  you  dread  being  unable  to  iupport 
the  holy  fadnefs  of  penitence  ;  yet  you  have  hitherto  been 
able  to  bear  up  againft  the  internal  horrors  of  guilt :  virtue 
in  your  eyes  feems  wearifome  beyond  fufferance;  yet, 
have  you  long  dragged  on  under  the  flings  of  an  ulcerated 
confcience,  which  no  joy  could  enliven.  Ah!  Since  you 
have  hitherto  been  able  to  bear  up  againft  all  the  inward  an- 
guifh,  the  bitternefles,  the  difgufls,  the  gloomy  agitations 
of  iniquity,  no  longer  dread  thofe  of  virtue  :  in  the  pains 
and  fufferances  infeparable  from  guilt,  you  have  under- 
gone trials  far  beyond  what  may  be  attached  to  virtue ;  and 
doubly  fo,  becaufe  grace  foftens,  and  renders  even  pleaf- 
ing,  the  fufferings  of  piety,  while  the  only  fweetener  of 
guilt  is  the  bitternefs  of  guilt  itfelf. 

My  God !  Is  it  poffible,  that,  for  fo  many  years  paft,  I 
liave  had  ftrength  to  wander  in   fuch  arduous  :-md  dreary 

ways, 


45^  SERMON     XV. 

ways,  under  the  tyranny  oF  the  world,  and  of  the  paffions, 
and  that  I  fhould  be  unable  to  live  with  thee,  under  all  the 
tendernefs  of  thy  regards,  under  the  wings  of  thy  compaf- 
fion,  and  under  the  prote&ion  of  thy  arm  ?  Art  thou  then 
fo  cruel  a  mafter  ?  The  world  which  knows  thee  not,  be- 
lieves that  thou  rendered  miferable  thofe  who  ferve  thee  : 
but  we,  O  Lord,  we  know  that  thou  art  the  gentled 
and  bed  of  maders,  the  tendered  of  all  fathers,  the  mod 
faithful  of  all  friends,  the  mod  munificent  of  all  benefac- 
tors ;  and  that  thou  gived  a  foretade,  by  a  thoufand  in- 
ward confolations  with  which  thou  indulged  thy  fervants 
here  below,  of  that  eternal  felicity  which  thou  prepared 
for  them  hereafter. 


SERMON 


SERMON   XVI 

THE  WORD  OF  GOD. 


Matthew  iv.  4. 

It  is  written,  that  man  Jhall  not  live  by  bread  alone, 
but  by  every  zuord  that  pro ceedeth  out  of  tilt  mouth  of 
God. 

JN  othing  can  give  a  better  idea  of  the  power  and  of  the 
fublimity  of  the  word  of  the  gofpel,  than  the  images  em- 
ployed by  Jefus  Chrifl  to  foretel  its  effects. .  One  while  it 
is  a  facred  fword,  which  is  to  divide  father  from  child, 
hufband  from  wife,  brother  from  fitter,  and  man  from  him- 
felf  \  to  bend  all  minds  under  the  yoke  of  faith,  to  fubju- 
gate  the  Cefars,  to  triumph  over  fages  and  the  learned, 
and  to  exalt  the  flandard  of  the  crofs  upon  the  wrecks  of 
idols,  and  of  empires  ;  through  that  is  reprefented  to  us  its 
might,  which  the  whole  world  hath  been  unable  to  refift. 

One  while  it  is  a  divine  fire,  fpread  in  an  inftant 
throughout  the  earth,  which  goes  to  difTolve  the  moun- 
tains, to  depopulate  the  cities,  to  people  the  forefls,  to  re- 
duce into  afhes  the  profane  temples,  to  inflame  the  minds 
of  men,  and  to  make  them  fly,  like  madmen,  to  death,  in 
the  fight  of  nations ;  and  under  thefe  parabolical  traits  are 
figured  to  us  the  promptitude  of  its  operations,  and  the  ra- 
pidity of  its  victories. 

Vol.  I.  K  3  On« 


45$  SERMON    XVI. 

One  while  it  is  a  myfterious  leaven,  which  joins  and  re- 
unites the  whole  mafs ;  which  binds  all  its  parts  together, 
and  imprefles  upon  them  one  general  efficacy  and  virtue  ; 
which  overthrows  the  diftin&ions  of  Jew  and  Gentile,  of 
Greek  and  Barbarian,  and  gives  to  all  the  fame  name  and 
the  fame  being  :  and  here  you  comprehend  how  great  muft 
be  its  fan&ity  and  inward  might,  feeing  it  hath  purified 
the  whole  univerfe,  and  of  all  nations  hath  made  but  one 
people. 

Another  time  it  is  a  feed,  which  at  firft  appears  loft  in 
the  earth,  but  afterwards  fprings  up,  and  multiplies  an 
hundred  fold.  And  behold  the  firft  caufe  of  the  fecundi- 
ty :  not  the  hufbandman  who  fows,  but  the  invifible  Author 
who  giveth  the  increafe. 

But  at  prefent  Jefus  Chrift  compares  it  to  bread,  which 
ferves  as  the  food  of  man;  and  he  thereby  means  to  in- 
form us  that  the  word  of  the  gofpel  is  a  powerful  and  fo- 
lid  nourimment,  oiten  pernicious  to  fuch  as  receive  it  into 
a  difeafed  and  corrupted  heart,  and  ufeful  only  to  fouls 
who,  with  an  holy  appetite,  nourifh  themfelves  with  it, 
and  who  bring  to  this  place  a  heart  prepared  to  liften  to  it. 

To  confine  myfelf  then  to  this  idea,  I  (hall  fay  nothing 
of  the  wonders  which  this  word,  announced  by  twelve 
poor  and  humble  men,  formerly  wrought  throughout  the 
univerfe.  I  fhall  pafs  over  in  filence  the  fan&ity  of  its 
do&rine,  the  fublimity  of  its  counfels,  the  wifdom  of  its, 
maxims  ;  and  limiting  myfelf  to  the  inftruclion,  and  to 
that  which  may  render  the  word  of  the  gofpel  which  we 
announce  beneficial  to  you,  I  fhall  inform  you,  firftly, 
what  are  the  difpofitions  which  ought  to  accompany  you  to 
this  holy  place  for  the  purpofe  of  hearing  it ;  and,  fecond- 

»y. 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  459 

ly,  in  what  mind  you  ought  afterwards  to  liflen  to  it :  Two 
duties  not  only  negle&ed,  but  even  unknown  to  the  greatefl 
part  of  the  believers,  who  run  in  crowds  to  the  feet  of 
thefe  Chriflian  pulpits,  and  which  are  the  ordinary  caufe  of 
our  miniftry  being  attended  with  fo  little  fruit. 

Part  I.  It  is  not  the  body  of  external  works,  fays  St. 
Auguftin,  which  diftinguifhes  the  jufl  from  carnal  Chrif- 
tians  :  it  is  the  invifible  fpirit  which  animates  them.  Pi- 
ous aclions  are  Irequently  common  to  the  good  and  the 
wicked  ;  it  is  the  difpofition  of  the  heart  which  difcrimi- 
nates  them.  All  run,  fays  the  apoftle,  but  all  reach  not 
the  goal,  for  it  is  not  the  fame  fpirit  which  impels  them. 

Now,  to  apply  this  maxim  to  my  f ubjecl; ;  of  all  the 
duties  of  Chriftian  piety,  there  is  undoubtedly  none  of 
which  the  external  is  more  equally  fulfilled  by  the  worldly, 
and  by  the  pious,  than  that  of  coming  to  hear  the  word  of 
the  gofpel.  All  run  in  crowds,  like  the  Ifraelites  former- 
ly to  the  foot  of  the  holy  mountain,  to  hear  the  words  of 
the  law.  Our  temples  are  hardly  fufficient  to  contain  the 
multitude  of  believers  :  profane  afTemblies  break  up,  to  fwell 
the  number  of  the  holy  aflembly  at  the  hours  of  inftruc- 
tion  ;  and  the  ages  which  have  feen  the  zeal  of  Chriftians  fo 
relaxed  on  every  other  duty  of  religion,  have  not  it  would 
feem,  witneffed  it  in  this.  Neverthelefs,  of  all  the  minif- 
ftries  confided  to  the  church  for  the  confummation  of  the 
chofen,  there  is  almoft  none  fo  unprofitable  as  that  of  the 
word  ;  and  the  moft  efficacious  mean  which  the  church 
hath,  in  every  age,  employed  for  the  conyerfion  of  men, 
is  become,  at  prefent,  its  feebleft  refource.  You,  my 
brethren,  are  yourfelves  a  melancholy  proof  of  this  truth. 
Never  were  inftru&ions  more  frequent  than  in  our  days, 
and  never  were  converfions  fo  rare. 

It 


460  SERMON     XVI. 

It  is  of  importance,  therefore  to  explain  the  caufes  of 
fo  common  and  fo  deplorable  an  abufe  5  now,  the  firft  is 
undoubtedly  in  the  want  of  thofe  difpofitions  which  ought 
to  accompany  you  to  this  holy  place,  in  order  to  Hften  to 
the  word  of  falvation.  And  furely,  if  St  Paul  formerly 
commanded  all  believers  to  purify  themfelves  before  com- 
ing to  eat  the  bread  oi  life:  if  he  declared  to  them,  that 
not  to  diftinguifh  it  from  ordinary  food  was  to  render 
themfelves  guilty  of  the  body  of  the  Lord,  we  have  no 
Jefs  rcafon  to  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  prove  your- 
ielves  and  to  prepare  your  foul  before  you  come  to  partici- 
pate in  that  fpiritual  food  which  we  break  for  the  people  ; 
and  that  not  to  diftinguifh  it  from  the  word  of  men,  in 
your  manner  of  liflening  to  it,  is  to  render  yourfelves 
guilty  even  of  the  word  of  Jefus  ChrifL 

The  firft  difpofition  required  of  you  by  the  fan£lity  of 
this  word,  when  you  come  to  hear  it,  is  a  fincere  defire 
that  it  may  be  ufeful  to  you.  Before  coming  to  our  tem- 
ples, you  ought  privately,  in  your  own  houfe,  to  addrefs 
yourfelf  to  the  Father  of  Light,  to  entreat  him  to  beftow 
upon  you  that  ear  of  the  heart  which  alone  makes  his  voice 
to  be  heard  ;  to  give  to  his  word  that  efficacy,  that  inward 
un£lion,  thofe  attractions  fo  powerful  and  fo  fuccefstul  in 
the  converfion  of  finners,  that  he  may  overcome  that  in- 
fenfibility  which  you  have  oppofed  to  all  the  truths  hither- 
to heard ;  that  he  fix  thofe  momentary  feelings  which  you 
have  fo  often  experienced  while  liflening  to  us,  but  which 
have  never  been  productive  of  any  conlequences  towards 
your  falvation  ;  that  to  us  he  give  that  zeal,  that  wifdom, 
that  dignity,  that  f  ulnefs  of  his  fpirit,  thofe  piercing  lights, 
that  divine  vehemence  which  carries  conviclion  to  the 
heart,  and  which  never  fpeaks  in  vain  ;  that  he  form  in 
our  hearts  the  relifh   of  thofe  truths  which  he  putteth  in 

our 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  464 

our  mouths ;  that  he  render  us  infenfible  to  your  praifes, 
or  to  your  cenfures,  in  order  that  we  may  be  more  ufeful 
to  your  wants  ;  that  the  ardent  defire  to  accomplifh  your 
falvation,  fully  compenfate  the  want  of  thofe  talents  deni- 
ed to  us  by  nature  ;  and  that  we  honour  our  miniftry,  not 
by  feeking  to  pleafe,  but  to  fave  you. 

And  furely,  if  the  Ifraelites,  before  approaching  mount 
Sinai,  to  hear  the  words  of  the  law  which  the  angel  was  to 
announce  to  them,  were  obliged,  by  the  order  of  the  Lord, 
to  purify  themfelves,  to  wafh  their  garments,  and  even  to 
abftain  from  the  holy  duties  of  marriage,  in  order  to  pre- 
pare themfelves  for  that  grand  operation,  and  to  carry  no- 
thing to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  unworthy  of  the  fanclity 
of  the  law  they  went  to  hear ;  is  it  not,  fays  a  holy  father, 
much  more  reafonable,  when  you  come  to  hear  the  words 
of  a  more  holy  law,  that  you  bring  there  at  leaft  thofe 
precautions  of  faith,  of  piety,  of  external  refpecl,  which 
mark  in  you  a  fincere  defire  of  conforming  your  manners 
to  thofe  maxims  which  we  are  to  announce  to  you  ?  What, 
my  brethren !  are  the  precepts  of  Jefus  Chrift,  the  words 
of  eternal  life,  to  be  liftened  to  with  lefs  precaution  than 
the  ordinances  of  a  figurative  law  ?  Is  it  becaufe  they  are 
no  longer  announced  to  you  by  an  angel  from  heaven  ? 
But  are  not  we,  equally  as  he,  the  inftruments  of  God  to 
promulgate  his  word,  and,  like  him,  do  we  not  fpeak  in 
his  place  ?  Did  the  angel  upon  the  mountain  bear  more  the 
mark  of  divinity  than  we  bear  of  him  ?  He  wrote  the 
law  upon  tables  of  ftone ;  the  grace  of  our  miniftry  en- 
graves ic  on  hearts.  He  promifed  milk  and  honey ;  and 
we  announce  real  andeverlafting  riches.  The  thunders  of 
heaven,  which  accompanied  his  menaces  againft  the  tranf- 
grefTors  of  the  law,  overthrew  the  people  ftruck  with  ter- 
ror at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  :    but  what   were  thefe 

threatening* 


46a  SERMON     XVli 

threatenings  and  temporal  maledictions,  their  cities  de- 
molished, their  wives  and  children  led  into  captivity,  when 
compared  to  that  eternal  mifery  which  we  are  inftru&ed 
continually  to  foretel  to  the  violators  of  the  law  of  God  ? 
Separate  what  we  are  from  the  miniftry  which  we  fill,  and 
what  is  there  here,  either  lefs  awful  or  lefs  refpe£table,  than 
upon  mount  Sinai  ? 

And,  neverthelefs,  what  preparations  accompany  you  to 
an  aclion  fo  holy  and  fo  worthy  of  refpeft  ?  A  vain  curiofi- 
ty  which  you  wifh  to  gratify  ;  an  irkfome  leifure  which 
you  are  well  pleafed  to  have  amufed  ;  a  religious  fpe&acle, 
the  pleafure  of  which  you  wifh  to  fhare  ;  a  cuftom  which 
you  follow,  becaufe  the  world  hath  adopted  it  ?  What  do 
I  know  ?  The  pleafure,  perhaps  of  pleafing  a  mailer,  by 
imitating  his  refpeft  for  the  word  of  the  gofpel,  and,  far 
more,  in  order  to  attract  his  regards  than  thofe  of  divine 
mercy  ?  Once  more,  what  do  I  know  ?  Perhaps  views  ftill 
more  criminal,  and  of  which  we  cannot  fpeak  without  de- 
grading the  dignity  of  our  miniftry.  No  motive  of  falva- 
tion  leads  you  here;  no  view  of  faith  prepares  you,  no 
fentiment  of  piety  accompanies  you  to  this  place  ;  in  a 
word,  your  coming  to  liften  to  the  holy  word  is  no  work 
of  religion. 

Firft  caufe  of  the  inutility  of  our  miniftry.  For  how 
is  it  poflible  that  a  proceeding  altogether  profane  fend  a 
difpofition  to  grace  ?  And  that  in  this  multitude  of  believers, 
afTembled  in  this  holy  place,  the  goodnefs  of  God  diftin- 
guifh  you  from  among  the  crowd,  to  open  your  heart  to 
the  word  of  life  ;  you  who  have  brought  hither  only  thofe 
difpofitions  which  are  molt  calculated  to  keep  at  a  diftance 
that  mercy  ?  My  brethren,  as  religion  hath  nothing  grander, 
in  one  fenfe,  than  the  charge  of  the  do&rine  and  of  truth, 

fo 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  463 

£3  piety  likewife  knows  nothing  fo  important,  and  which 
requires  more  religious  precautions,  than  a  proper  attention 
to,  and  the  being  well  initru&ed  in  them. 

The  fecond  difpofition  which  ought  to  accompany  you 
to  this  holy  place,  is,  a  difpofition  of  grief  and  fhame, 
founded  on  the  little  fruit  you  have  hitherto  reaped  from  fo 
many  truths  already  heard.  You  ought  to  reflecl:  upon  all 
thofe  feelings  of  compunction,  which  the  Lord,  through 
the  miniury  of  the  word,  hath  operated  in  your  hearts,  yet, 
which  have  never  been  attended  with  any  fuccefs  towards 
your  falvation  ;  fo  many  pious  refolutions,  infpired  in  this 
place,  which  feemed  to  promife  a  change  of  life,  yet  which 
have  all  vanifhed  on  the  firfl  temptation.  For  what  in  this, 
ought  mod  to  alarm  you,  is,  that  all  thofe  truths  which 
have  made  only  fuch  momentary  impreflions  on  you,  are 
fo  many  witnefTes,  who  (hall  one  day  depofe  againft  you 
before  the  tribunal  of  Jef us  Chriil  :  in  proportion  to  the 
limes  that  the  word  of  .the  gofpel  hath  failed  to  touch  yon 
even  to  repentance,  fo  many  times  hath  it  rendered  you 
more  unworthy  of  obtaining  the  grace  of  repentance.  Faith, 
on  this  point,  admits  ot  no  medium  ;  and  if  you  depart 
unchanged,  you  depart,  in  fome  refpe£l  more  culpable  than 
before,  becaufe,  to  all  your  other  crimes,  you  have  added 
that  of  contempt  of  the  holy  word. 

Behold  the  reflections  which  ought  to  occupy  your  faith  ; 
and  when  you  enter  the  affembly  of  believers,  you  ought, 
•while  trembling  over  the  paft,  to  demand  it  yourfelt  :  Am 
I  going  to  .hear  a  word  which  fhall  judge  me,  or  truths  which 
fhall  deliver  me  ?  Am  I  going  to  offer  up  to  the  companion 
of  God  a  docile  and  willing  heart,  or  to  his  juflice  frefli 
motives  ot  condemnation  againft  myfelf  ?  It  is  now  fo  long 
fince  truths  have  been  announced  to  me,  the  force  of  which 

my 


464  SERMON     XVI. 

my  utmoft  deference  to  the  paflions,  cannot  weaken  in  my 
mind,  for,  in  fpite  of  myfelf  they  make  me  inwardly  ac- 
knowledge the  error  of  my  ways  ;  yet,  have  I  taken  a  fingle 
Hep  towards  quitting  them  ?  I  have  fo  long  been  warned, 
that  the  body  of  a  Chriftian  is  the  temple  of  God  ;  have  I, 
in  confequence,  become  more  temporate  and  cbafte?  I 
have  fo  long  heard  it  faid,  that,  "  if  thine  eye  be  evil, 
pluck  it  out,  and  caft  it  far  from  thee;"  have  I  attained 
ftrength  for  fuch  feparations,  which  I  know  to  be  fo  indif- 
penfable  towards  my  falvation  ?  I  have  fo  long  been  told, 
that  to  defer,  as  I  have  done,  from  day  to  day,  my  peni- 
tence, is  to  be  determined  to  die  in  fin  ;  do  I,  even  now, 
find  myfelf  more  difpofed  to  quit  my  deplorable  fkuation, 
and  with  a  willing  heart  to  begin  the  work  of  my  falva- 
tion ? 

Great  God  !  Ceafe  not  to  give  me  a  heart  fufceptible  to 
truths,  which  always  affecT:,  but  never  change  me  ;  and 
punifli  not  the  abufe  which  I  make  of  thy  word,  by 
depriving  it,  with  regard  to  me,  of  that  efficacy  which 
thou  ftill  permitted  it  to  have,  in  order  to  recal  me  from 
my  errors  to  penitence  !  And,  my  brethren,  how  many  be- 
lievers who  liften  to  me,  formerly  feeling  to  thofe  truths 
which  we  announce,  no  longer  offer  to  them  now,  but  a 
tranquil,  and  an  hardened  heart  ?  They  neglected  thofe 
happy  times,  when  grace  was  yet  willing  to  open  this  way 
of  converfion ;  and  ever  fince  fo  continued  and  fo  fatal  a 
negligence,  they  liften  to  us  with  indifference,  and  the 
mofl  terrible  truths  in  our  mouths,  are  no  longer  in  their 
ears,  but  founding  brafs,  and  a  tinkling  cymbal. 

Now,  I  afk  your  own  hearts,  my  brethren,  if  this  feeling 
of  forrow,  for  the  little  advantage  you  have  hitherto  reaped 
from  fo  many  inftruftions,  is  even  known  to  you  ?  Doth 

that 


THE  WORD  OF  COD.  465 

that  outward  pomp,  with  which  you  come  here,  worldly 
women  announce  that  difpofition  ?  Do  not  the  fame  inde- 
cent and  vain  cares,  which  fit  you  for  profane  fpeclacles, 
accompany  you  to  our  inftru£lions,  where  the  world  is 
condemned  ?  Do  you  make  the  fmalleft  difference  there  in 
your  appearance  ?  And  doth  it  not  feem,  either  that  we 
are  to  announce  the  foolifh  maxims  of  the  theatres,  or 
that  you  come  for  the  fole  purpofe  of  infulting,  by  an 
indecent  carriage,  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  the  holy 
maxims  of  the  gofpel ! 

But  what  do  I  fay,  my  dear  hearer  ?  Far  from  reproach- 
ing to  yourfelves  fo  many  truths,  heard  hitherto  without 
fruit,  alas!  you  are  perhaps  delighted  at  your  infenfibility  ; 
you  perhaps  pride  yourfelves  and  indulge  a  deplorable  vani- 
ty, in  liflening  to  us  with  indifference  ;  you  perhaps  con- 
sider it  as  giving  you  an  air  of  confequence,  and  as  a  proof 
of  fuperiority  of  mind,  that  what  others  are  affected  by, 
fhould  leave  you  tranquil  and  calm  ;  you  perhaps  make  a 
vain  boaft  oi  your  infenfibility.  It  feems,  that  in  you  it 
would  be  a  weaknefs  to  be  affected  by  truths,  which  for- 
merly triumphed  over  philofophers,  and  Caefars  ;  by  truths, 
evidently  come  down  from  heaven,  and  which  bear  with 
them  fuch  divine  marks  of  fublimity  and  wifdom ;  by 
truths,  which  do  fuch  honour  to  man,  and  alone  worthy 
of  reafon  ;  by  truths,  fo  foothing  and  confolatory  to  the 
heart,  and  alone  calculated  to  beffow  internal  tranquillity 
and  peace.  Lajtly,  By  truths,  which  propofe  to  us  fuch 
grand  interests,  and  towards  which  we  can  never  be  indif- 
ferent, without  folly  and  madnefs.  You  vaunt  the  little 
fuccefs  of  our  zeal,  and  that  all  our  difcourfes  leave  vou 
exactly  as  they  found  you  ;  and  in  declaring  this,  you 
think  you  are  doing  honour  to  vour  reafon.  I  do  not  fay 
to  you,  that  you  make   a   boaft  of  being  in  that  depth  o£ 

Vol.  I.  L  3  the 


466  SERMON      XVI. 

the  abyfs,  and  in  that  ftate  of  reprobation  which  is  now  al- 
moft  beyond  refource,  and  which  is  worthy  both  of  horror 
and  pity  ;  but  I  fay  to  you,  that  the  furefl  and  moil  eftab- 
lifhcd  mark  of  a  light  and  frivolous  mind,  of  a  weak  and 
limited  reafon,  of  an  ill-formed  heart,  equally  incapable 
of  elevation  and  dignity,  is  that  of  finding  nothing  which 
ftrikes,  which  aftonifhes,  which  fatisfies,  and  which  in- 
terefts  you,  in  the  wife  and  fublime  truths  of  the  morality 
of  Jefus  Chrift. 

For  the  fmners  of  another  character  flill  preferve  at  leaft 
fome  remains  of  refpecl  for,  and  a  certain  confcioufnefs 
o[  the  truth  which  fubfifts  with  a  life  altogether  criminal, 
but  which  is  always  the  mark  of  a  good  heart,  of  a  heart 
which  {till  retains  a  relifli  for  good,  of  a  judicious  reafon, 
which,  though  led  away  by  the  world  and  the  paffions, 
knows  to  do  juftice  to  itfelf,  ftill  feels  the  force  of  that 
truth  which  condemns  it,  and  leaves  within  us  refources 
of  falvation  and  repentance.  Thefe  tinners,  at  leaft,  ac- 
knowledge that  we  are  right  ;  they  change  nothing,  it  is 
true,  of  their  manners ;  but  the  truth,  at  leaft,  affe&s,  dif- 
turbs,  agitates,  and  excites  within  them  fome  feeble  defires  of 
falvation,  and  hopes  o\  a  future  converfion  ;  they  are  forry 
to  find  themfelves  even  too  fufceptible  of  the  terrors  of 
faith  ;  they  are  almoft  afraid  of  liftening  to  us,  left  they 
lofe  that  falfe  tranquillity,  which  is  the  only  comfort  of 
their  crimes ;  on  quitting  our  inftrucfions,  they  feek,  in 
difhpation,  to  enliven  a  fund  of  anxiety  and  fadnefs,  which 
the  truths  they  come  from  hearing  have  left  in  their 
foul ;  they  immediately  hurry  into  the  world  and  its  plea- 
furcs,  with  that  inward  fling  which  the  word  of  God  hath 
left  in  their  heart,  there  to  feek  out  a  foothing  and  deceitful 
hand  which  may  draw  it  out,  and  which  may  clofe  up  that 
wound  from  which  alone   its  cure  ought   to  flow  ;  they 

dread 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  467 

dread  the  breaking  of  their  chains ;  they  turn  away  their 
head  that  they  may  not  fee  that  light  which  comes  to  difturb 
the  comfort  of  their  fleep.  They  love  their  paffions,  I 
confefs,  but,  at  leaft,  they  infult  not  the  truth ;  on  the 
contrary  they  render  glory  to  his  might,  by  ereclijig  de- 
fences againft  it ;  they  are  feeble  finners,  who,  dreading 
their  incapability  of  defence  againft  God,  fly  from  and 
fhun  him.  But  for  you,  you  make  a  vain-glorious  boaft 
of  liftening  to  him  with  indifference,  and  not  dreading 
him  ;  you  find  it  grand  and  philofophical  to  have  placed 
yourfelves  above  all  thefe  vulgar  terrors  ;  you  believe  that 
the  pride  of  your  reafon  would  be  difhonoured  by  any  re- 
ligious dread  ;  and  while  you  are  internally  the  meaneft 
and  the  moft  cowardly  foul,  the  raoft  dejecled  by  the  firft 
danger  which  threatens  you,  the  moft  difheartened  by  the 
fmalleft  accident,  the  very  lhuttle-cock  of  every  frivolous 
hope  and  fear  of  the  earth,  you  pique  yourfelf  upon  an 
undaunted  courage  againft  the  truth  ;  that  is  to  fay,  that 
you  are  pofleffed  of  every  thing  which  is  mean  and  vulgar 
in  fear,  and  you  are  afhamed  of  having  that  only  portion 
of  it  which  is  dignified  and  reafonable  ;  you  have  no  re- 
fiftance  to  offer  againft  the  world,  and  you  make  a  vain 
parade  of  a  fenfelefs  valour  againft  God. 

Second  difpofition  which  ought  to  accompany  you  to 
our  inftru&ions,  a  forrow  for  the  little  fruit  you  have 
hitherto  reaped  from  them.  The  laft  difpofition  is  a  grate- 
ful feeling  for  that  mean  of  falvation  ftill  provided  for  you 
by  God,  in  preferving  the  facred  truft  of  the  truth,  and  in 
continuing  amid  you  the  fuccefliort  of  thofe  minifters, 
alone  authorifed  to  announce  to  you  the  holy  word. 

In  effecl,  the  moft  terrible  chart ifement  with  which  God 
formerly  ftruck  the  iniquities  of  his  people,  was  that  of 

rendering 


468  sermon   xvi; 

rendering  his  word  rare  and  precious  among  them.  As  he 
faith  through  his  prophet  Amos,  "  And  they  mall  wander 
"  from  fea  to  fea,  and  from  the  eaft  even  to  the  weft, 
"  they  fhall  run  to  and  fro  to  feek  the  word  of  the  Lord, 
«*  and  fhall  not  find  it."  And  not  only  he  ceafed  to  raife  up 
true  prophets  in  Ifrael,  but  he  likewife  permitted  falfe 
teachers  to  fpring  up  among  his  people,  who  turned 
the  tribes  away  from  his  worfhip,  and  preached  gods  to  them 
which  their  fathers  had  never  known. 


Now,  my  brethren,  it  is  a  fignal  mercy  of  God,  that 
notwithflanding  the  iniquities  which  feem  to  have  attained 
to  their  utmoft  height  among  you,  he  flill  raifeth  up  to  you 
prophets  and  paflors,  who  hold  out  a  found  and  faultlefs 
word.  It  is  a  moll  fingular  protection  of  the  Lord,  that 
error  hath  not  been  permitted  to  prevail  over  truth  among 
us.  And  what  have  you  done  to  merit  the  being  thus  dif- 
tinguifhed  from  fo  many  other  nations  ?  Why  is  it  that 
you  are  not  involved  in  the  fame  condemnation  ?  Why 
have  you  dwelt  in  the  happy  land  of  Gofhen,  alone  (hone 
upon  by  the  lights  of  heaven,  while  all  the  reft  of  Egypt 
was  inveloped  in  darknefs  ?*  Is  it  not  the  fole  mercy  of 
God  who  hath  marked  you  out  from  among  fo  many  na- 
tions which  applaud  themfelves  in  their  error  ?  You  are 
flill  under  the  care  of  your  paftors  ;  you  ftill  receive  from 
their  mouths  the  doclxine  of  the  apoftles ;  truth  ftill  flows 
upon  you  in  a  pure  and  divine  ftream  ;  Chriftian  pulpits 
ftill  refound  in  every  part  with  the  maxims  of  faith  and  of 
piety  ;  and,  by  preferving  to  you  the  do&rine  and  the  blef- 
fjngs  of  inftruftion,  the  goodnefs  of  God  ftill  provides  for 
you  a  thoufand  means  of  falvation. 

Neverthelefs,  when  you  come  to  liften  to  us,  do  you 
bring  a  heart  filled  with  gratitude  ?  Do  you   confider  as  a 

fjgnal 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  469 

fignal  blefiing  of  God,  the  charge  of  the  truth  and  of  the 
holy  word,  which  he  hath  preferved,  and  permitteth  ftill 
to  be  announced  to  you  ?  Do  you  ever  fay  with  the  pro- 
phet, "  He  hath  not  dealt  fo  with  any  nation  ;  and  as  for 
•'  his  judgments,  they  have  not  known  them  ?" 

Alas !  you  bring  here  only  vanity  and  an  irreligious  dif- 
guft :  the  moft  wearifome  of  your  moments  are  thofe 
which  you  employ  in  liftening  to  truths  which  ought  to 
compofe  the  whole  confolation  of  your  life.  We  are  even 
obliged  to  refpecl:  your  langours  and  difgufts,  by  often 
mingling  human  ornaments  with  the  truth,  which  is  thereby 
weakened ;  it  would  indeed  appear  that  we  come  here  to 
fpeak  to  you  for  ourfelves ;  and  you  give  the  fame  atten- 
tion to  us  as  you  do  to  troublefome  mendicants  who  are 
foliciting  your  favour.  You  have  no  regret  for  moments 
occupied  by  the  frivolous  pleafuresof  a  profane  fpe&acle; 
there  alone  it  is  that  every  thought  of  bufinefs,  of  fortune, 
and  of  family  is  rejected  as  an  intrufion,  and  that,  all  elfe 
forgotten,  the  mind,  formed  for  more  ferious  matters,  feafts 
with  avidity  on  chimerical  adventures;  it  is  from  thence 
that  you  always  come  out  occupied  and  delighted  with  the 
Jafcivious  maxims  promulgated  by  a  criminal  theatre.  You 
dwell  with  tranfport  on  thofe  parts  which  have  made  the 
moft  dangerous  impreffions  upon  the  heart;  you  come  fill- 
ed with  their  remembrance  even  to  the  foot  of  the  altar. 
Thefe  images,  fo  fatal  to  innocence,  can  no  longer  be  ef- 
faced ;  while,  on  quitting  the  word,  the  only  portion  re- 
tained by  your  memory  is  perhaps  the  defects  of  him  who 
hath  announced  it  to  you. 

My  brethren,  God  no  longer  punifheth  in  a  grievous 
manner  the  contempt  of  his  word.  He,  no  doubt,  might 
dill  tranfport  hisgofpel  amidft  thofe  barbarous  nations  who 

have 


470 


SERMON     XVI. 


have  never  heard  his  name,  and  abandon  anew  his  heritage  : 
He  might  draw  from  out  of  their  deferts  ferocious  and  in- 
fidel nations,  and  deliver  up  to  them  our  temples  and  our 
Habitations,  as  he  formerly  delivered  up  thofe  churches  fo 
celebrated,  which  the  Turtulliens,  the  Cyperians,  the  Au^ 
guftins,  had  illuflrated,  and  where  now  not  a  trace  of  Chrif- 
tianity  remains  but  in  the  infults  which  Jefus  Chrift  there 
receives,  and  in  the  fhackles  with  which  believers  are  there 
loaded  :  He  might  do  it ;  but  he  avengeth  himfelf  more 
fecretly,  and  perhaps  more  terribly.  He  leaveth  to  you 
flill  thefpe&acle  and  all  the  outward  ceremony  of  the  preach- 
ing of  the  gofpel,  but  he  turneth  the  whole  fruit  of  it  upon 
the  fimpleand  ignorant  inhabitants  of  the  country  ;  the  ter- 
rors of  faith  are  no  longer  but  for  them.  He  no  longer 
withdraweth  his  prophets  from  cities;  but  he  taketh  away 
from  them,  if  I  may  venture  to  fay  fo,  the  power  and  the 
influence  of  their  miniftry  ;  he  flriketh  thefe  holy  clouds 
with  drynefs  and  unfruitfulnefs  ;  he  raifeth  up  to  you  fuch: 
as  render  truth  flowry  and  beautiful,  but  who  do  not  ren- 
der it  amiable  ;  who  pleafe,  but  who  do  not  convert  you  ; 
he  permitteth  the  holy  terrors  of  his  doftrine  to  be  weaken- 
ed in  our  mouths :  he  no  longer  draweth  forth  from  the 
treafures  of  his  mercy,  grand  chara&ers  like  thofe  raifed 
up  in  the  ages  of  our  forefathers,  who  renewed  cities  and 
kingdoms,  who  led  the  great  and  the  people,  and  who  chan- 
ged the  palaces  of  kings  into  houfes  of  penitence  :  he  per- 
mitteth that  we,  weak  men,  fucceed  to  thefe  apoflolic  men. 

What  more  fhall  I  add  ?  We  affemble  here,  like  Paul 
formerly  in  Athens,  idle  and  curious  fpe&ators,  whofe 
only  view  is  tbat  of  hearing  Something  new  ;  while  thofe 
who  perform  the  functions  of  their  miniitry,  among  your 
vaflals,  fee  with  confolations  at  their  feet,  like  Efdras  for- 
merly,   fimple  Ifraelites,    who  are  unable  to  retain  their 

tears 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  47 1 

tears,  in  hearing  only  the  words  of  the  law.  We  amufe 
the  leifure  and  the  idlenefs  of  princes  and  the  great  of  the 
earth,  while,  in  the  country,  holy  miniflers  bring  forth 
Jefus  Chrift,  and  reap  an  abundant  harveft :  in  a  word, 
we  preach  and  they  convert.  It  is  thus,  O  my  God,  that 
in  fecret  thou  exercifeil  (cvcrc  and  terrible  judgments. 

But,  my  brethren,  why  may  not  we  fay  here  to  you, 
what  Paul  and  Barnabas  formerly  faid  to  the  unbelieving 
Jews  ?  "  It  was  neceflary  that  the  word  of  God  fhould  firft 
"  have  been  fpoken  to  you  ;  but  feeing  ye  put  it  from  you, 
"  and  judge  yourfelves  unworthy  of  everlafting  life,  lo, 
"  we  turn  to  the  gentiles."  We  fhall  therefore  turn  to  the 
nations  hitherto  abandoned,  towards  thole  humble  and  poor 
people  buried  in  ignorance,  who  cultivate  your  lands,  and 
who  will,  with  faith  and  gratitude,  receive  that  grace  which 
you  reject.  Ah  !  our  labours  would  be  much  more  avail- 
ing, our  yoke  more  eafy,  our  miniftry  more  confoled  ;  we 
mould  not  then,  it  is  true,  reckon  among  our  hearers 
names  celebrated  in  hiftory ;  but  we  would  reckon  the 
names  of  thofe  who  are  written  in  heaven  :  we  fhould  not 
fee  there  afTembled  all  thofe  titles,  and  fplendid  dignities, 
which  form  the  whole  glory  of  the  world  which  paffeth 
away;  but  we  would  there  fee  faith,  piety,  and  innocence, 
which  compofe  the  whole  glory  of  the  Chriftian  who  eter- 
nally endureth  ;  we  mould  not  hear  there  vain  applaufes 
given  to  the  language  of  the  man,  and  not  to  that  of  faith; 
but  we  would  behold  thofe  tears  flowing  which  are  the 
immortal  praife  of  grace  :  our  pulpits  might  not  indeed 
be  furrounded  with  fo  much  pomp  ;  but  our  hearers  would 
be  a  fpettacle  worthy  of  angels,  and  of  God. 

Such  are  the  difpofations  which  ought  to  prepare  you  for 
our  inflruclions.  It  is  neceffary  now  to  inir.ru£t  you  on 
the  mind  in  which  you  ought  to  liflen  to  us. 

Part 


472  SERMON    XVI. 

Part  II.  In  order  towards  inflruc~Hng  you  on  the  mind 
in  which  you  ought  to  liften  to  the  holy  word,  it  is  requir- 
ed only  to  eftablifli  at  firft  what  are  its  authority  and  its  end. 
Its  authority,  which  is  divine,  demands  a  refpeclf  ul  and  do- 
cile mind  ;  its  end,  which  is  the  converfion  of  hearts,  de- 
mands a  fpirit  of  faith,  which  fearches  in  it  only  fuch  lights 
as  may  enable  it  to  quit  its  errors,  and  fuch  remedies  as 
may  cure  its  evils. 

lflfyt  I  fay  that  its  authority  is  divine.  Yes,  my  bre- 
thren, the  word  which  we  announce  to  you  is  not  our 
word,  but  the  word  ot  him  who  fendeth  us.  From  the 
moment  that  we  areeffablifhedby  him  in  the  holy  miniftry, 
through  the  way  of  a  legitimate  call,  he  willeth  that  you 
confider  us  as  fent  by  him,  as  fpeaking  to  you  here  on 
his  part,  and  as  only  lending  our  weak  voice  to  his  divine 
words.  We  bear,  it  is  true,  that  treafure  in  vefTels  of 
earth  ;  but  it  thereby  lofes  nothing  ot  its  majefty.  Like 
thofe  pitchers  which  Gideon  formerly  employed  againft 
the  enemies  ot  the  Lord,  the  found  may  be  mean  and  con- 
temptible ;  but  truth,  that  divine  light  which  God  hath 
placed  within  us,  is  not,  from  thence,  lefs  defcended 
from  heaven,  or  deflined,  like  the  lamps  ot  Gideon,  ftill 
to  flrike  with  terror  unfaithful  fouls. 

Now,  you  owe,  in  the  firft  place,  to  the  authority  or 
this  divine  word,  a  pious  docility  and  an  attention  to  it, 
rather  in  the  light  of  difciples  than  of  judges.  In  efTecl, 
we  expofe  to  you  the  rules  ot  worfhip  and  of  piety,  the 
decifions  of  the  gofpel,  the  laws  of  the  church,  and  the 
maxims  of  the  holy.  We  come  not  here  to  give  you  our 
own  opinions,  our  prejudices,  our  thoughts  ;  this  is  not  a 
pulpit  of  controverfy,  it  is  the  place  of  truth  ;  nothing 
which  can  afford  room  for  difputation  ought  even  to  find 

place 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  473 

place  in  the  pulpit  of  peace  and  of  unity  ;  we  fpeak  here  in 
the  name  of  the  church,  and  are  only  the  interpreters  of 
her  faith  and  of  her  doctrine. 

Neverthelefs,  how  many  of  thofe  men,  fo  wife  in  their 
own  conceit,  and  who  pique  themfelves  upon  fagacity  and 
reafon,  come  here  with  a  mind  fet  againft,  and,  as  it  were, 
watchfully  upon  guard  againft  all  the  terrors  of  the  holy 
word  !  They  make  not  a  boaft,  like  the  finners  we  have 
lately  mentioned,  of  being  callous  to  all  truth  ;  but  they 
look  upon  our  miniftry  as  an  art  of  exaggeration  and  hy- 
perbole ;  the  moft  holy  emotions  of  zeal  are  only,  in  their 
opinion,  fludied  tricks  of  human  artifice ;  the  moft  awful 
threatenings,  only  the  fallies  of  a  vain  eloquence ;  the 
moft  incontrovertible  maxims,  only  difcourfes  adapted  ra- 
ther to  cuftom  than  to  truth.  Such,  my  brethren,  is  the 
deplorable  fituation  in  which  the  greateft  part  of  you  find 
yourfelves  here.  You  always  inwardly  oppofe  to  that  truth 
which  we  announce  the  maxims  and  the  prejudices  of  the 
world  which  contradict  it ;  you  are  ingenious  in  weaken- 
ing in  your  own  breaft,  by  fpecious  reaions,  the  pretend- 
ed excefs  of  ur  maxims  ;  you  come  here  to  combat,  and 
not  to  yield  to  the  force,  or  to  the  light  of  truth  :  you 
come  here,  it  would  feem,  only  in  order  to  enter  into 
conteftation  with  God,  to  invalidate  the  eternal  immutabi- 
lity of  his  word,  to  undertake  the  interefts  of  error 
againft  the  glory  of  truth,  and  to  be  the  inward  apologifts 
of  the  world  and  of  the  paflions,  even  in  that  holy  place 
deftined  to  condemn  and  to  combat  them.  Ah  !  fuffer 
that  truth,  at  leaft,  to  triumph  in  its  own  temple;  difpute 
not  with  it  that  feeble  victory,  it  which  has  formerly  tri- 
umphed over  the  whole  univerfe;  opprefs  it,  and  welcome, 
amidft  the  world,  and  in  thofe  afTemblies  of  vanity  which 
error   collects,  and  where  error  is  enthroned.     Is  it  not 

Vol.  I.  M  3  enough 


474  s  E  R  M  °  N    xvr' 

enough  that  you  have  banifhed  it  from  the  world,  and  that 
it  dare  no  longer  fhew  it f elf  without  being  expofed  to  de- 
rifions  and  cenfures  ?  Leave  to  us,  at  lead,  the  melancholy 
confolation  of  daring  frill  to  publifh  it  in  the  face  of  thofe 
altars  which  it  hath  raifed  up,  and  which  ought  furely  to 
ferve  it,  at  leaft,  as  a  place  of  refuge. 

You  accufe  us  of  exaggeration.  Great  God  !  And 
thou  one  day  wilt  perhaps  judge  us  for  weakening  the  force 
and  the  influence  of  thy  word,  in  confequence  of  not 
giving  fufficient  confideration  to  it  at  the  feet  of  the  altars  ! 
And  thou  wilt  one  day  perhaps  reproach  us  for  having  ac- 
commodated the  holy  feverity  of  thy  gofpel  to  the  indul- 
gences and  foftenings  of  our  age !  And  thou  wilt  perhaps 
range  us  one  day  among  the  workers  of  iniquity,  becaufe 
the  lukewarmnefs  and  negligence  of  our  manners  have 
taken  from  the  word  which  we  announce  that  terror  and 
that  divine  vehemence  which  can  only  be  found  in  a 
mouth  confecrated  by  piety  and  by  penitence ! 

How,  my  brethren  !  The  truths  of  falvation,  fuch  as 
Jefus  Chrift  has  fet  forth  to  us,  would  be  incapable  of 
alarming  confciences,  were  the  mind  of  man  not  to  add 
extraneous  terrors  to  them  !  Paul  formerly  exaggerated 
then,  when  the  Roman  governor,  in  fpite  of  the  pride  of 
a  falfe  wifdom,  and  all  the  prejudices  of  an  idolatrous 
worfhip,  trembled,  fays  St.  Luke,  while  hearing  him 
fpeak  of  righteoufnefs,  of  temperance,  and  of  the  awful 
fpeclacle  of  a  judgment  to  come  ?  Paul  then  exaggerated, 
when  the  inhabitants  of  cities  came  itiiking  their  breafls, 
melting  in  tears  at  his  feet,  and  bringing  into  the  middle 
of  the  public  places  the  lafcivious  or  impious  books,  and 
all  the  other  inltruments  of  their  paffions,  in  order  to  make 
a  facrifice  of  them  to  the  Lord  ? 

You 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD. 


Mb 


You  accufe  us  of  adding  additional  terrors  to  the  words 
oF  the  gofpel ;  but  where  are  the  confciences  which  we 
difturb  ?.  Where  are  the  fmners  whom  we  alarm  ?  Where 
are  the  worldly  fouls,  who,  feized  with  dread  on  their  de- 
parture from  our  difcourfes,  go  to  conceal  themfelves  in 
the  deepeft  folitudes,  and,  by  holy  exceffes  of  penitence, 
to  expiate  the  diflblutenefs  of  their  pall  manners  ?  The 
ages  which  have  preceded  us  have  often  ken  fuch  exam- 
ples. Do  we  ever  witnefs  fuch  inftances  now  ?  Ah ! 
Would  to  God,  faid  formerly  an  holy  lather,  that  you 
could  convift  me  of  having  infpired  a  fingle  foul  with  thefe 
falutary  terrors  !  Would  to  God,  faid  he  to  fome  worldly 
fages  of  his  time,  who  accufed  him  of  exaggerating  the 
dangers  and  the  corruption  of  the  world,  that  a  fingle  in- 
ftance  might  fupport  your  affertion  !  And  I  may  fay  to 
you  here,  with  even  more  reafon  than  that  grand  character, 
would  to  God  that  the  confequences  of  fo  bleffed  an  in- 
difcretion  could  be  (hewn  to  me  !  Would  to  God  that  you 
had  examples  with  which  to  reproach  us,  in  juftification 
of  your  cenfures  !  Ah !  We  with  pleafure  would  furTer 
the  blame,  could  but  the  fuccefs  be  fhewn  to  us  with  which 
we  are  reproached  ! 

Alas !  We  manage  only  too  much,  perhaps,  your  weak- 
nefs  ;  we  refpecl,  perhaps  too  much,  cuftoms  which  a 
long  ufage  has  confecraied,  in  the  fear  of  appearing  to  cen- 
fure  the  grand  examples  by  which  they  are  authorifed  ;  we 
dare  fcarcely  fpeak  of  certain  irregularities,  left  our  cen- 
fures mould  appear  to  fall  rather  on  the  perfons  than  on 
the  vices ;  we  are  obliged  to  content  ourfelves  with  (hew- 
ing truths  to  you  from  afar,  which  we  ought  to  place  im- 
mediately under  your  eye,  and  even  your  falvation  fre- 
quently fuffers  through  the  excels  of  our  precautions  and 
©ur  timid  prudence.     What  (hall  I  fay  ?  Weaknefs  often 

extorts 


47G  strmon   xvi. 

extorts  from  us  praifes,  where  zeal  ought  to  place  anathe- 
mas and  cenfures  ;  like  the  world,  we  allow  ourfelves  to  be 
dazzled  by  names  and  titles  ;  that  which  formerly,  encou- 
raged the  Ambrofes  intimidates ^us  ;  and,  becaufe  we  owe 
you  refpeft,  we  often  keep  back  from  you  that  truth 
which  we  ought  flill  more  to refpect ;  yet,  after  all  this, 
you  accufe  us  of  exaggerating,  of  overllraining  truths, 
and  of  fafhioni ng  from  them  phantoms  ot  our  own  brain, 
in  order  to  alarm  thofe  who  hflen  to  us. 

But,  what  advantage  could  we  draw  from  an  artifice  fo 
unworthy  of  that  truth  confided  to  us  ?  Thefe  overftrained 
and  puerile  declamations  might  fuit  the  venal  eloquence 
of  thofe  Sophifts  who,  amid  the  Grecian  fchools,  anxioufly 
fought  to  attract  difciples  to  themfelves,  by  vaunting  the 
wifdom  of  their  feci.  But  for  us,  my  brethren,  ah!  our 
wifh  fhould  be  to  have  it  in  our  power  to  render  your 
path  more  eafy,  far  from  throwing  frefh  obftacles  in  the 
way.  Wherefore  fhould  we  difhearten  you  in  the  enter- 
prife  of  falvation,  by  flatting  up  chimerical  difficulties  ?  It 
is  our  duty  to  fmooth  fuch  as  may  actually  be  found  in  it, 
and  to  tender  you  an  affiftinghand,  in  order  to  fuflain  your 
weaknefs. 

Meditate,  my  brethren,  upon  the  law  of  Jefus  Chrift ; 
what  do  I  fay  ?  Only  open  the  gofpel  and  read  ;  then  fhall 
you  find  that  we  draw  a  veil  of  dilcretion  over  the  feverity 
of  its  maxims;  then,  far  from  complaining  ot  ourexceffes, 
you  will  yourfelves  fupply  the  deficiencies  of  our  filence 
and  of  our  foftenings,  and  will  fay  to  yourfelves  what  we 
dread  to  fay,  becaufe  you  could  never  bear  it.  Great 
God  !  To  bear  his  crofs  every  day,  to  defpife  the  world 
and  all  it  contains,  to  live  as  a  ft  ranger  upon  the  earth,  to 
attach  himfelf  to  thee  alone,  to  renounce  all  which  flatters 

the 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD*  %JJ 

the  Ten fes,  inceflantly  to  renounce  himfelf,  to  confider  as 
happy  thofe  who  weep  or  who  are  affli&ed,  behold  the  fub- 
fiance  of  thy  holy  law,  and  which  every  Chriftian  under- 
takes. O  what  can  the  human  mind  add  to  the  rigour  of. 
this  doftrine  !  What  could  we  announce  to  you  more  me- 
lancholy or  more  formidable  to  felf-love  ?  Consequently, 
your  reproaches  are  merely  a  vain  language  ot  the  world* 
and  one  of  thofe  fafhions  of  fpeaking  which  no  one  ex- 
amines, and  each  adopts  ;  your  confcience  inwardly  belies 
it ;  and  when  you  fpeak  candidly,  you  confefs  that  we  are 
in  the  right,  and  that  the  gofpel  is  a  preacher  much  more 
fevere  and  more  fearful  for  the  world,  and  for  thofe  who 
love  it,  than  it  could  be  poflible  for  us  ever  to  be. 

Firft  duty  which  the  authority  of  the  holy  word  exa6ls 
of  you,  viz.  a  docile  fpirit. 

Secondly,  you  owe  to  the  authority  of  this  holy  word  a 
fpirit  of  fincerity,  and  inward  application  of  it  to  yourfelf  ; 
that  is  to  fay,  to  be  a  rigorous  examinator  here  of  your 
own  confcience  ;  to  have  inceflantly  before  your  eyes,  on 
one  fide,  the  ftate  of  your  foul,  and,  on  the  other,  the 
truths  which  we  announce;  to  meafure  yourfelf  according 
to  that  rule  ;  to  fearch  into  yourfelf  by  that  light ;  to  judge 
yourfelf  by  that  law;  to  liften  to,  as  if  arldreffed  to  you 
alone,  the  holy  maxims  announced  to  the  multitude;  to 
confider  yourfelf  as  alone  here  before  Jefus  Chrift,  who 
fpeaks  to  you  alone  through  our  mouth,  and  who  fends  us 
here  perhaps  for  you  alone.  For,  my  brethren,  no  one  here 
takes  to  himfelf  that  truth  which  attacks  and  condemns  him  ; 
no  one  thinks  himfelf  an  interefled  perfonage  ;  it  would 
feem  that  we  form  at  pleafure  to  ourfelves  phantoms  of  the 
brain,  for  the  purpofe  of  combating  them,  and  that  the  reality 
of  that  finner  whom  we  attack  is  no  where  in  exigence.  The 

lewd 


478  SERMON   XVI. 

lewd  and  diffolute  perfon  recognifes  not  himfelf  in  the  moll 
animated  and  moft  flriking  traits  of  his  paflion.  The  man, 
loaded  with  ill-acquired  wealth,  and  perhaps  with  the  blood 
and  fpoils  of  the  people,  joins  with  us  in  deprecating  that 
very  iniquity  in  others,  and  fees  not  that  he  judges  himfelf. 
The  courtier,  confumed  with  ambition,  and  who  facrifices 
confcience  and  integrity  every  day  to  that  idol,  frankly  ad- 
mits of  the  meannefs  of  that  paflion  in  his  equals,  and  looks 
upon  it  as  a  virtue,  and  as  a  deep  experience  of  the  court 
in  himfelf.  Every  one  continually  views  himfelf  by  cer- 
tain favourable  fides,  which  effectually  hinder  him  from 
ever  knowing  himfelf  fuch  as  he  is.  In  vain  do  we  mark 
you,  as  I  may  fay,  in  the  moft  pointed  manner;  you  al- 
ways inwardly  find  out  fome  foitened  traits,  which  alter  the 
refemblance.  You  whifper  to  yourfelf,  I  am  not  this  man. 
And  while  the  public  makes  application  of  fuch  linking 
truths  to  us,  we  alone  either  fucceed  in  being  convinced 
that  they  are  not  drawn  tor  us,  or  we  only  find  out  in  them 
the  defe£ls  of  our  brethren  ;  in  our  own  exacleft  portraits, 
we  fearch  out  foreign  likenefles ;  we  are  ingenious  in  turn- 
ing the  blow  upon  others,  which  truth  had  given  to  us 
alone;  the  malignity  of  the  application  is  the  only  fruit 
which  we  reap  from  that  picture  of  our  vices  made  from 
the  pulpit,  and  we  rafhly  judge  our  brethren  where  we 
ought  to  have  judged  only  ourfelves.  And  thus  it  is,  O 
my  God  !  that  men  become  corrupted,  mifapply  every 
thing,  and  that  even  the  light  of  truth  feals  up  their  eyes 
upon  their  own  errors,  and  opens  them  only  to  fee  in 
others  either  what  is  not,  or  what  it  ought  to  have  kept 
entirely  hid  from  them  1 

Such  are  the  duties,  which  the  authority  of  the  holy 
word  exacts  oi  you  :  let  us  now  proceed  to  thofe  attached 
to  its  end.     Its  end,  my  brethren,  you  know,  is  the  con- 

verfion 


THE  WORD   OF  GOD.  479 

verfion  of  hearts,  the  eftablifhment  of  truth,  the  deftruc- 
tion  of  error  and  of  fin,  and  the  fanclification  of  the  name  of 
Jefus  Chrifl ;  all  there  is  grand,  elevated ,  important,  and  wor- 
thy of  the  mod  fublime  function  of  the  hierarchy  ;  and  con- 
fequently,  it  is  from  thence  to  be  inferred,  that  you  ought  to 
liften  to  us  with  a  refpeftful  and  religious  fpirit,  which  def- 
pifes  not  the  fimplicity  of  out  difcourfes,  and  with  a  fpirit, 
of  faith,  which  feeks  nothing  human  in  it,  nothing  frivo- 
lous, nothing  which  does  not  correfpond  with  the  excel- 
lency and  the  dignity  of  its  kend. 

I  fay  a  fpirit  of  religious  refpect,  which  defpifes  not  the 
fimplicity  of  our  difcourfes ;  for  however  enlightened  you 
may  in  other  refpe&s  be,  you  ought  not  in  confequence  of 
your  pretended  lights,  to  claim  a  title  to  negleft  the  inflec- 
tions of  the  church  to  believers.  The  unftion  of  the. fpirit 
will  always  inform  you  of  fomething  here,  of  which  you 
would  perhaps  have  remained  ignorant.  If  poflefTed  of 
triat  knowledge  which  is  the  caufe  of  pride,  you  will  be 
ftrengthened  in  that  charity  which  edifies.  If  your  mind 
acquire  nothing  new,  your  heart  (hall  perhaps  be  made  to 
feel  new  things;  you  will  there  at  leaft  learn  that  your 
knowledge  is  nothing,  it  you  be  ignorant  of  the  fcience  of 
falvation  ;  that  you  are  but  a  cloud  without  moifture,  ele- 
vated, it  is  true,  above  other  men,  by  your  talents,  and  by 
the  fuperiority  of  your  knowledge,  but  empty  of  grace, 
and  the  fport  of  every  wind  and  of  every  paflion  in  the 
fight  of  God  ;  and,  laftly,  That  a  fimple  and  pure  foul, 
fhall,  in  an  inftant,  be  taught  the  whole  in  the  bofom  of 
God,  and  (hall  be  transformed  from  light  to  light  ;  while, 
on  the  contrary,  that  you,  after  an  entire  life  of  watchings 
and  ardent  fludy,  and  the  attainment  of  an  ufelefs  mafs  of 
knowledge  and  lights,  (hall  perhaps  reap  for  your  portion, 
only  eternal  darknefs. 

What 


480  SERMON     XVI. 

What  a  mi  flake,  my  brethren,  to  banifh  yourfelves  from 
thefe  holy  aifemblies,  under  pretence,  that  you  already 
know  enough,  and  likewife  that  you  are  already  fufficiently 
verfed  in  all  the  duties  of  piety,  which  you  have  long  pro- 
feffed ;  and  that  Chriftian  reading,  and  a  fmail  degree  of 
reflection  in  private,  go  a  greater  way,  and  are  attended 
with  more  benefit,  than  all  our  difcourfes !  But,  my  dear, 
hearer,  if  you  profefs  piety  and  righteoufnefs,  what  Tweeter 
confolation  can  you  enjoy,  than  that  of  hearing  the  won- 
ders of  the  Lord  publifhed,  the  ordinances  of  his  holy  law, 
truths  which  you  love  and  pra&ife,  and  of  which  you  ought 
to  wifh  the  knowledge  to  be  given  to  all  men  ?  What  fight 
more  foothing  and  confoling  to  you,  than  that  of  your 
brethren  afTembled  here  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  attentive 
to  the  words  of  life,  abfent  from  the  fpe&acles  of  the  world, 
and  removed  from  the  occafions  of  fin,  forming  ho  ly  de- 
fires,  opening  their  hearts  to  the  voice  of  God,  perhaps 
conceiving  the  premices  of  the  holy  fpirit,  and  the  com- 
mencement of  their  penitence,  and  to  be  enabled  to  join 
yourfelf  with  them,  in  order  to  obtain  from  the  father  of 
mercies,  the  completion  in  their  foul  of  the  work  of  falva- 
tion,  which  he  hath  begun  to  operate  within  them  ? 

Not  but  that  the  moft  confolatory  refources  are  furnifhed 
to  Chriftian  piety,  by  the  meditation  of  the  divine  writings. 
But  the  Lord  hath  attached  graces  to  the  power  of  our  mi- 
niflry,  and  to  the  legitimate  calling,  which  you  will  not  find 
elfewhere.  The  mod  fimple  truths  in  the  mouth  of  the 
pallors,  or  of  thofe  who  fpeak  to  you  in  their  place,  draw 
an  efficacy  from  the  grace  of  their  million,  which  is  not 
inherent  to  them ;  the  fame  book  of  Ifaiah,  which,  when 
read  from  a  chariot  by  that  officer  of  the  queen  of  Ethio- 
pia, was  to  her,  as  a  book  fealed  up,  and  only  amufed  her 
Icifure  without  enlightening  her  faith,  explained  by  Philip, 

inftantly 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  48*. 

inflantly  became  to  her  a  word  of  life,  and  of  falvation. 
And,  lafily,  You  owe  that  example  to  your  brethren, 
that  edification  to  the  church,  that  refpeft  to  the  word  of 
Jefus  Chrift,  that  uniformity  to  the  fpirit  of  peace  and  of 
unity,  which  binds  us  together.  O  banifh  yourfelves,  and 
fo  much  the  better,  from  thofe  profane  and  criminal  affem- 
blies,  where  piety,  alas  !  is  always  a  ftranger,  fuffering, 
and  conftrained ;  but  here  is  its  place,  and  its  home ;  this 
is  the  aflembly  of  the  holy,  feeing  it  is  only  towards  their 
formation,  that  our  miniftry  hath  been  eftablifhed,  and  ftill 
continues  to  endure  in  the  church. 

I  have  faid,  in  the  fecond  place,  a  fpirit  of  faith ;  and, 
in  this  difpofition,  two  others  are  comprifed  :  a  love  of 
the  holy  word,  independent  of  the  talents  of  the  man  who 
announces  it  to  you ;  a  tafte,  iormed  by  religion  which 
comes  not  here  in  fearch  of  vain  ornaments,  but  of  the 
folid  truths  of  falvation  ;  that  is  to  fay,  to  Men  to  it,  nei- 
ther with  a  fpirit  of  cenfure,  nor  with  a  fpirit  of  curiofity. 

And,  in  effeft,  your  love  of  the  word  of  Jefus  Chrill 
ought  to  render  you  blind,  as  I  may  fay,  to  the  defecls  of 
#hofe  who  announce  it  to  you ;  in  a  mouth  even  rude  and 
unpolifhed,  you  ought  to  find  it  lovely,  divine,  and  wor- 
thy of  all  your  homage  ;  in  whatever  lhape  it  be  present- 
ed to  you,  decked  with  pompous  ornaments,  or  fimple 
and  negle&ed,  provided  that  its  celeftial  traits  are  flill  to  be 
recognifed,  it  preferves  the  fame  rights  over  your  heart. 
And  indeed,  is  any  portion  of  its  fanftity  loft  by  palling 
through  lefs  brilliant,  and  lefs  copious  channels  ?  Did  the 
holy  word  of  the  Lord  lofe  any  thing  of  its  dignity,  whe- 
ther he  formerly  gave  it  out,  from  a  bufh,  mean  and  defpi- 
cable  to  the  fight,  or  from  a  cloud  of  glory ;  whether  he  gave 

Vox-.  I.  N  3  out 


482  SERMON    XVI; 

out  his  oracles  in  the  midft  of  the  defert,  and  in  a  tabernacle 
covered  with  the  fkins  of  animals,  or  in  the  temple  of  Solo- 
mon, the  mod  magnificent  which  hath  ever  been  raifed  up 
to  the  glory  of  his  name  ?  And  did  the  faith  of  Ifrael  make  any 
diftin&ion,  when  it  was  the  fame  Lord  who  every  where 
fpake  ? 

Neverthelefs,  how  few  among  all  thofe  who  liflen  to  us, 
who  do  not  conflitute  themfelves  judges  and  cenfurers  of 
the  holy  word  !  They  come  here  merely  for  the  purpofe  of 
deciding  on  the  merit  ot  thofe  who  announce  it,  of  draw- 
ing foolifh  comparifons,  of  pronouncing  on  the  difference 
of  the  lights  and  of  the  inftru&ions ;  they  think  it  an  ho- 
nour the  being  difficult  to  pleafe  ;  they  pafs  without  atten- 
tion over  the  moft  ftriking  truths,  and  which  might  be  of 
the  moll  efTential  benefit  to  all ;  and  the  only  fruit  reaped 
by  them  from  a  Chriftian  difcourfe,  is  confined  to  the  mi- 
serable pride  of  having,  better  than  any  other,  remarked  its 
defecls.  This  is  fo  truly  the  cafe,  that  we  may  with  juftice 
apply  to  the  greateft  part  of  our  hearers  what  Jofeph,  be- 
come the  preferver  ot  Egypt,  faid,  through  pure  artifice, 
to  his  brethren  :  It  is  not  to  feek  food  that  you  are  come 
here  ;  it  is  as  fpies,  to  fee  the  nakednefs  of  the  land.  It  is 
not  to  nourifh  yourfelves  with  the  bread  of  the  word,  or  to 
feek  afliftance  and  efficacious  remedies  for  your  evils,  that 
you  come  to  liften  to  us  ;  it  is  in  order  to  find  out  caufe 
for  applying  fome  vain  cenfures,  and  to  fhew  your  fkill  in 
remarking  our  defecls  ;  which  defecls  are  perhaps  a  terri- 
ble puniihment  upon  you  ot  the  Lord,  who,  in  confe- 
quence  of  your  crimes,  refufeth  more  accomplished  la- 
bourers in  his  vineyard,  who  would  have  been  enabled  to 
rccal  you  to  repentance. 

But 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD,  483 

But  candidly,  my  brethren,  however  weak  our  language 
may  be,  do  we  not  always  fay  enough  to  overthrow  you, 
to  diffipate  your  errors,  and  to  make  you  inwardly  confefs 
irregularities  which  you  are  unable  to  juftify  to  yourfelves  ? 
Are  fuch  fublime  talents  required  to  tell  you  that  fornica- 
tors, extortioners,  and  men  without  mercy,  fhall  never  en. 
ter  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  that  unlefs  you  become  penitent 
you  fhall  perifh  ;  and  that  it  matters  little  to  become  maf- 
ter  of  the  whole  world,  if  you  thereby  lofe  your  foul  ?  Is 
it  not,  in  faft,  that  very  fimplicity  which  conflitutes  the 
whole  force,  and  gives  fuch  energy  to  thefe  divine  truths  ? 
And  ought  they  to  be  lefs  alarming  to  the-  criminal  foul, 
though  in  the  mouth  of  the  moft  obfcure  individual  of  the 
miniflry  ? 

And  befides,  granting  that  it  were  here  permitted  us  to 
recommend  ourfelves,  as  the  apoflle  formerly  laid  to  un- 
grateful believers,  more  attentive  to  cenfure  the  fimplicity 
of  his  appearance  and  of  his  language,  and,  as  he  fays  himT 
felf,  his  contemptible  figure  in  the  eyes  of  men,  than 
touched  with  the  endlels  iatigues  and  dangers  which  he 
had  furmounted,  in  order  to  announce  to  them  the  gof- 
pel,  and  to  convert  them  to  truth  ;  were  it  permitted,  we 
might  fay  to  you,  my  brethren,  we  fuftain,  folely  on  your 
account,  the  whole  weight  of  a  painful  and  laborious  mi- 
niflry ;  our  cares,  our  watchings,  our  prayers,  the  endlefs 
toilings  which  qualify  us  for,  and  accompany  us  in  thefe 
Chriftian  pulpits,  have  no  other  object  but  that  of  your 
falvation.  O  do  not  our  pains  entitle  us  at  lead  to  your 
refpeft  and  gratitude  ?  Is  it  pofhble  that  that  zeal  which  fuf- 
fers  all,  in  order  to  fecure  your  falvation,  can  ever  be- 
come the  melancholy  fubjeft  of  your  derifions  and   cen- 

furcs  ? 


484  SERMON     XVI. 

fures  ?  Demand  of  God,  good  and  well,  that,  for  the  glory 
of  the  church  and  for  the  honour  of  his  gofpel,  he  raife  up 
to  his  people  labourers  powerful  in  fpeech,  of  thofe  men 
whom  the  fole  unction  of  the  fpirit  of  God  renders  ner- 
vous and  eloquent,  and  who  announce  the  gofpel  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  its  elevation  and  fanftity.  But  like 
wife  demand,  that,  when  we  happen  therein  to  fail,  your 
faith  may  fupply  the  deficiencies  of  our  difcourfes ;  that 
your  piety  may  render  to  truth,  in  your  own  hearts,  that 
which  it  lofes  in  our  mouths  ;  and  that,  through  your  un- 
righteous diflaftes,  you  force  not  the  minifters  of  the  gof- 
pel to  have  recourfe,  in  order  to  pleafe  you,  to  the  vain 
artifices  and  colouring  of  an  human  eloquence,  to  (Line 
rather  than  to  inftruft,  and,  like  the  Ifraelites  formerly,  to 
go  down  to  the  Philiftines  to  fharpen  their  inftruments, 
deftined  folely  to  cultivate  the  earth  ;  I  mean  to  fay,  to 
feek  in  profane  learning,  or  in  the  language  of  an  hoftile 
world,  foreign  ornaments  to  embellifh  the  fimplicity  of  the 
gofpel ;  and  to  give  to  inftruments,  and  to  talents  deftined 
to  increafe,  to  multiply,  and  to  ftrengthen  the  holy  feed,  a 
vain  brilliancy  and  a  fubtlety  which  blunt  its  energy  and 
its-  virtue,  and  which  fubftitute  a  falfe  fplendor  in  the 
place  of  truth  and  zeal. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  behold  the  laft  fault  inimical  to 
f  that  fpirit  of  faith  ;  it  is  a  fpirit  of  curiofity.  You  do  not 
fufficiently  diftinguifh  the  holy  gravity  of  our  miniftry 
from  that  vain  and  frivolous  art  which  has  nothing  in  view 
but  the  arrangement  of  the  difcourfe  and  the  glory  of  elo- 
quence ;  you  aflift  at  our  difcourfes  with  the  fame  view  as 
Auguftin,  ftill  a  finner,  did  in  former  times  at  thofe  of 
Ambrofe*  It  was  not,  fays  that  illuftrious  penitent,  in  or- 
der 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  485 

der  to  learn  from  the  mouth  of  the  man  of  God  the  fecrets 
of  eternal  lite,  which  I  had  fo  long  fought,  nor  the  defire 
of  finding  in  them  remedies  for  the  fhameful  and  inveterate 
wounds  of  my  foul,  and  which  thou,  O  my  God  !  alone 
art  acquainted  with  ;  it  was  in  order  to  examine  whether 
his  eloquence  correfponded  with  his  great  reputation,  and 
if  his  difcourfes  warranted  the  unbounded  applaufes  which 
his  hearers  bellowed  upon  him.  The  truths  which  he  an- 
nounced interefted  me  not ;  I  was  moved  only  by  the  beau- 
ty and  the  charms  of  the  difcourfe. 

And  fuch  is  ftill,  at  prefent,  the  deplorable  fituation  of 
far  too  many  believers  who  liften  to  us  ;  who,  like  Auguf- 
tin,  loaded  with  crimes  and  fettered  with  the  moft  fhameful 
paflions,  far  from  coming  here  to  feek  remedies  for  their 
evils,  come  in  fearch  of  vain  ornaments,  which  amufe 
without  curing  the  affli&ed,  which  are  the  means  of  our 
pleafing  the  finner,  but  have  not  influence  towards  making 
the  finner  difpleafed  with  himfelf.  They  come  here,  it 
would  appear,  to  fay  to  us  what  the  inhabitants  of  Baby- 
lon formerly  faid  to  the  captive  Ifraelites,  "  Sing  us  one  of 
"  the  fongs  of  Zion."  They  come  in  fearch  of  harmony 
and  delight,  in  the  ferious  and  important  truths  of  the  mo- 
rality of  Jefus  Chrift  ;  in  the  fighs  of  the  forrowful  Zion, 
captive  in  a  ftrange  land  ;  and  require  of  us  that  we  flatter 
the  ear  while  publifhing  the  threatenings  and  the  rigid  max- 
ims of  the  gofpel. 

O  you  who  now  liften  to  me,  and  whom  this  difcourfe 
regards,  reflect  for  a  moment,  I  entreat  of  you,  upon  your- 
felves ;  your  cafe  is,  as  it  were,  defperate  in  the  eyes  of 
God  ;  your  wounds,  become  virulent  through  their  long- 
Handing 


486  SERMON     XVL 

{landing,  no  longer  leave  almofl  a  hope  of  cure ;  your  evils 
prefs,  time  is  fhort ;  God,  wearied  with  having  fo  long 
borne  with  you,  is  at  laft  on  the  point  of  finking  and  o£ 
furprifing  you  :  behold  the  eternal  miferies  which  we  fore- 
tell to  you,  and  which  happen  every  day  to  your  equals. 
You  are  not  far  diftant  form  the  fulfilment ;  we  fhew  you 
the  terrible  fword  of  the  Lord  fufpended  over  your  head, 
and  ready  to  fall  upon  you ;  and  far  from  fhuddering  at 
the  afterpart  of  your  defliny,  or  taken  any  meafures  to 
avoid  the  impending  blow,  you  childifhly  amufe  yourfelves 
in  examining  whether  it  fhine  and  have  a  luflre  ;  and  you 
fearch,  even  in  the  terrors  of  the  prediction,  for  the  pue- 
rile beauties  of  a  vain  eloquence.  Great  God  !  How  def- 
picable  and  worthy  of  derifion  doth  the  finner  appear 
when  we  view  him  through  thy  light  ! 

For,  my  brethren,  are  we  then  here  upon  a  profane  tri- 
bunal, for  the  purpofe  of  courting  with  artificial  words 
the  fufTrages  of  an  idle  aflembly,  or  in  a  Chriflian  pulpit, 
and  in  the  place  of  Jefus  Chrift,  to  inflru£t,  to  reprove, 
and  to  fan&ity  you  in  the  name,  and  under  the  eyes  of 
him  who  fends  us  ?  Is  it  here  a  difpute  for  worldly  fame, 
an  idle  exercife  of  the  faculties,  or  the  moft  holy  and  the 
moft  important  miniftry  of  faith  ?  O  why  do  you  come  to 
loiter  away  with  our  feeble  talents,  or  to  feek  human  qua- 
lifications where  God  alone  fpeaketh  and  a£teth  ?  Are  not 
the  humbleft  inftruments  the  moft  fuitable  to  the  mighti- 
nefs  of  his  grace  ?  Do  not  the  walls  of  Jericho  fall  when 
be  pleafeth,  at  the  found  of  the  weakeft  trumphets  ?  O 
what  matters  it  to  us  that  we  pleafe,  if  we  do  not  change 
you  ?  Of  what  confequence  is  it  to  us  the  being  eloquent, 
if  you  continue  always  finners  ?  What  fruit  can  we  reap 

from 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD.  487 

from  your  applaufes ;  if  you  reap  none  yourfelves  from  our 
inftruftions  ?  Our  only  praife,  our  only  glory  is  the  eftab- 
lifhment  of  the  reign  of  God  in  your  hearts  ;  your  tears 
alone,  much  rather  than  your  applaufes,  can  prove  our 
eulogium ;  and  we  covet  no  other  crown  than  yourfelves, 
and  your  eternal  falvation. 


END  Of  THE  FIRST  VOLUME, 


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